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ART-HINTS. 


ART-HINTS. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE, 

AND 

PAINTING. 


15V 

JAMES  JACKSON  JARVES, 

A0THOR  OP  “  HISTOIIY  OF  THE  SANDWICH  ISLANDS,”  “  PARISIAN  SIGHTS  AND  FRENCH 
PRINCIPLES,”  MEMBER  OF  THE  AMERICAN  ORIENTAL  SOCIETY,  ETC.  ETC. 


NEW  YORK: 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN  SQUARE. 

1855. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  tlie  year  1855,  by 
II  a  epee  &  Brothers, 


In  the  Clerk’s  Office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


TO  MY  MOTHER 


TO  WHOSE  COUNSELS  IN  MY  YOUTH  I  OWE  SO  MUCH 
OF  MY  LOVE  FOR  THE  NATURAL  WORLD, 

AND  WHOSE  SYMPATHY 
IN  MANHOOD 

HAS  EVER  BEEN  MY  STRONGEST  STIMULUS 
TO  PROGRESS, 

THIS  EXPERIENCE  OF  ART-STUDY  AND  THE  PLEASURES 
OF  TASTE 

IS  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED, 


Florence,  Italy,  April,  1855. 


.  / 


PREFACE. 


In  the  Introductory  Chapter  an  allusion  is  made  to 
an  incident  which  prompted  me  to  endeavor  to  place 
before  my  countrymen,  in  a  concise  form,  an  embodi¬ 
ment  of  the  general  principles  of  Art.  There  was, 
however,  another  motive.  I  have,  myself,  too  strongly 
felt  the  need  of  a  work  which  should  embrace  both 
the  abstract  principles  and  rules  of  Art  and  an  out¬ 
line  of  its  historic  progress  and  social  relations,  not  to 
believe  that  a  book  comprising  these  facts  and  ideas, 
in  a  popular  form  would  be  useful.  Nowhere  have  I 
met  with  a  volume  of  this  character.  Writers  like 
Mr.  Ruskin,  A.  F.  Rro,  Lord  Lindsay,  and  Mrs. 
Jameson,  have  given  erudite  and  eloquent  treatises  on 
particular  branches  of  Art,  or  in  special  relation  to 
some  partial  object.  Those  who  wish  to  study  the 
subject  will  do  well  to  peruse  their  works. 


I'll! 


PREFACE. 


My  object,  however,  is  to  treat  of  Art  as  a  whole , 
embracing  its  general  relations  to  man,  not  minutely, 
but  in  a  suggestive  form,  and  more  as  an  aid  to,  than 
as  forestalling  inquiry.  I  have  uttered  my  opinions 
fully  and  frankly,  from  conviction  of  their  truth  and 
importance.  Although  more  particularly  addressed 
to  Americans,  on  account  of  their  greater  distance 
from,  and  perhaps  indifference  to,  noble  Art,  yet  in 
respect  to  it  there  is  so  much  congeniality  of  sentiment 
between  them  and  the  English,  that  much  that  is 
applicable  to  the  one  is  equally  so  to  the  other  nation. 
Therefore,  I  have  kept  closely  in  view,  however  im¬ 
perfect  the  expression,  the  desire  to  inculcate  right 
feeling  and  taste  in  those  minds  that,  lacking  oppor¬ 
tunity  of  studying  the  best  masters  in  their  homes, 
have  a  sincere  wish  to  know  something  of  their  history 
and  spirit. 

Art  has  much  to  hope  in  her  future  from  England 
and  the  United  States.  Their  political  institutions, 
diffused  education,  wealth  and  mental  activity,  are  so 
many  guarantees  for  its  rapid  development.  On  the 
other  hand,  in  the  zeal  of  commercial  activity,  the 
haste  of  production,  the  impatience  of  realization,  and 
the  despotism  of  fashion,  there  is  danger  to  Art. 


PREFACE. 


IX 


Freedom  gives  it  birth  ;  but  virgin  soils  also  produce 
choking  tares.  Cultivation  is  requisite  to  weed  them 
out.  Art,  left  scope  to  grow,  will  speedily  ripen  into 
the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  knowledge  and  of  life.  In  our 
passion  for  the  material  triumphs  of  Science,  we  should 
not  forget  what  we  owe  to  Art,  in  elevating  man  from 
the  savage,  refining  his  mind,  and  opening  to  him 
sources  of  pleasure  as  exhaustless  as  Beauty  itself. 
The  insect  may,  indeed,  rival  him  in  industry  and 
mechanical  skill ;  but  on  man  alone  is  bestowed  the 
genius  which  gives  birth  to  Art. 

The  harmony  between  its  truths  and  the  principles 
which  govern  the  moral  universe  constitute  a  still  more 
positive  claim  upon  our  attention,  if  we  would  expand 
ourselves  into  the  complete  spiritualized  man.  In  this 
relation  it  becomes  a  subject  worthy  of  the  investiga¬ 
tion  of  the  most  profound  minds,  as  one  intimately 
connected  with  our  twofold  welfare — the  rightful  en¬ 
joyment  of  earth  and  fitness  for  perfect  existence  in 
higher  spheres. 

High  Art  underlies  the  noblest  instincts  of  our 
nature.  Its  teachings  cannot  be  received  without 
making  men  wiser  and  better.  Feeling  is  its  touch¬ 
stone.  The  sensitive  soul  receives  its  truths  as  the 


X 


PREFACE. 


lungs  inhale  air,  expanding  with  intuitive  joy  and 
renewed  strength. 

Art  is  universal.  It  unites  mankind  in  common 
brotherhood.  As  a  missionary  of  civilization,  its  mes¬ 
sage  is  both  to  heart  and  mind.  Distinctions  of 
tongue  or  boundary  lines  disappear  before  the  power 
of  truths,  which,  like  the  rainbow,  charm  by  the  beauty 
of  variegated  hues,  or,  combined  with  light,  illumine 
the  universe. 

Moreover,  Art  is  the  connecting  link  in  the  chain 
of  great  minds.  Through  its  language,  thought  ap¬ 
peals  to  thought,  and  sympathy  echoes  to  feeling. 

A  distinguished  poet  beautifully  illustrated  to  me, 
one  day,  the  tenderness  of  kindred  Art.  He  had 
collected  many  specimens  of  the  works  of  the  early 
religious  painters  of  Italy,  quaint  and  dry  in  execu¬ 
tion,  but,  injured  and  time-worn  as  they  were,  full  of 
deep  meaning.  Upon  my  inquiring  why  his  taste  led 
him  to  purchase  pictures  which  the  present  age,  in  the 
pride  of  its  science,  despised,  he  replied,  that  when 
he  saw  those  old,  worm-eaten  panels,  on  which  believing 
generations  had  pictured  their  faith,  put  to  ignoble- 
use,  or  in  danger  of  utter  ruin,  respect  for  the  minds 
that  produced  them  prompted  him  to  take  them 


PREFACE. 


XI 


to  his  own  home,  as  an  asylum  from  modern  ignorance 
and  scepticism. 

If  we  approach  Art  rightly,  this  soul-charity  will 
spread  and  embrace  all  mind  within  its  folds,  in  the 
degree  of  its  sincerity  and  truth.  The  enjoyment 
which  Art  has  brought  to  me,  I  would  fain  share  with 
others.  Before  hastily  rejecting  conclusions,  which  on 
my  part  are  the  result  of  conviction,  I  would  earnestly 
beg  my  readers  to  candidly  test  and  patiently  probe 
the  principles  upon  which  they  are  founded.  At  the 
same  time  they  must  consider,  that,  pretending  to  no 
originality  or  the  elucidation  of  any  new  truth,  I  have 
simply  gathered  into  the  superficial  form  of  “  Hints,” 
ideas  of  universal  application.  Consequently,  they  will 
find  broad  principles  and  general  features,  instead  of 
learned  and  critical  details,  which,  however  interesting 
to  the  few,  might  have  repelled  the  many  from  the 
consideration  of  a  topic  of  vital  interest  to  humanity. 

Casa  Dauphine,  Piazza  Maria  Antonia, 

Florence ,  Italy,  April,  1855. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

Introductory  .  1 

CHAPTER  II, 

Man’s  Twofold  Nature  .  .  .  .  .  •  .15 

CHAPTER  III. 

Art  in  Relation  to  History — Its  Rise  ....  28 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Art  in  Relation  to  History — Its  Fall  ...  .42 

CHAPTER  V. 

Art  in  Relation  to  Matter  and  Spirit  ....  62 

CHAPTER  VI. 


Beauty,  Utility,  Ugliness,  Taste  . 


77 


XIV 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

VAOB 

Variety  of  Beauty — Fancy — Imagination  ...  88 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Primary  Truths  of  Nature  as  applied  to  Art — 
Infinity  —  Power  —  Repose  —  Sincerity  —  Variety — 
Unity  .  .......  98 

CHAPTER  IX. 

The  General  Truths  of  the  Landscape— Form  and  Color  112 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Particular  Truths  of  Painting  and  Sculpture  137 

CHAPTER  XI 

Schools  of  Art — Greece,  Pome,  and  Constantinople  .  173 

CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Mediaeval  Schools — Religious  Art  .  .  .  .19-1 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Symbolism  and  Naturalism  ......  210 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Struggle  ........  220 

CHAPTER  XV. 

The  Renaissance — Various  Directions  of  Naturalism  in 

Italy  ..........  243 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Spanish  and  Northern  Schools  —  Art  in  England, 
France,  and  America  .......  269 


CONTENTS.  XV 

CHAPTER  XVII, 

PAQE 

Art  in  Relation  to  Patronage  .  .  ' .  .  312 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Art  in  Relation  to  Artists — Religious  and  Dramatic 
Expression  .........  327 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Great  Compositions  of  Masters  .....  352 

CHAPTER  XX. 

The  Landscape  Masters . 379 


APPENDIX. 

Ages  of  distinguished  Artists — Prices  of  their  Works  .  394 


ART-HINTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

One  of  the  most  impressive  buildings  in  Venice,  from 
its  graceful  proportions  and  conspicuous  position  is,  as 
every  traveller  knows,  the  church  of  Santa  Maria  della 
Salute,  upon  the  Grand  Canal.  Born  of  the  early 
Renaissance,  it  has  been  in  the  main  spared  the  accu¬ 
mulation  of  barbarous  detail  and  false  taste  which  are 
common  to  so  many  of  the  church  edifices  of  a  later 
date,  erected  in  the  spirit  of  that  school  of  architecture. 
It  is  not,  however,  to  its  external  appearance  that  I 
would  call  the  reader’s  attention,  though,  perhaps,  no 
building  remains  more  permanently  fixed  in  the  general 
tourist’s  mind  among  his  associations  of  Venice.  In  it 
are  priceless  evidences  of  that  treatment  of  Art  which 
distinguishes  the  Venetian  painters  from  all  other 
artists,  and  with  due  deference  to  their  merits,  be  it 


B 


2 


ART-IIINTS. 


said,  invests  the  former  with  a  dignity  as  yet  unri¬ 
valled.  The  chief  of  these  precious  legacies  are 
Titian’s  “  Death  of  Abel,”  on  the  ceiling  of  the 
sacristy,  and  Tintoretto’s  “  Marriage  in  Cana,”  each 
exhibiting  in  an  eminent  degree  the  respective  powers 
of  those  two  great  masters.  There  are  many  others, 
scarcely  less  worthy  of  attention  as  showing  the  pro¬ 
gressive  development  of  the  religious  mind  of  Venice 
in  painting  at  the  culminating  point  of  her  high  career 
in  Art.  But  it  is  not  to  describe  these  paintings  that 
I  refer  to  this  church.  I  wish  to  relate  a  simple  in¬ 
cident  which  therein  met  my  observation,  and  led 
me  into  a  train  of  thought  resulting  in  the  present 
volume. 

During  the  summer  of  1854  I  was  in  Venice  re¬ 
freshing  my  mind  amid  its  artistic  treasures.  Being 
one  day  in  the  church  of  Santa  Maria  della  Salute,  or 
rather  in  the  sacristy,  I  noticed  enter  a  young  Ameri¬ 
can,  whose  appearance  denoted  a  cultivated  mind. 
Ilis  observant  eye  ranged  at  once  over  the  pictures, 
selecting  instinctively  those  of  most  merit,  and  sparing 
neither  time  nor  painful  observation  to  make  himself 
master  of  their  spirit  and  treatment.  Churches  every¬ 
where  are  proverbially  unfavorable  for  the  proper 
exhibition  of  paintings.  In  this  instance  the  best  are 
placed  at  a  most  awkward  height,  considering  the 
narrowness  of  the  room,  for  the  rangfe  of  the  eye, 
while  Titian’s  occupy  the  ceiling  some  forty  feet  above 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  3 

the  head,  and  can  be  seen  only  by  lying  flat  on  one’s 
back  on  the  stone  floor,  and  gazing  upward.  In  this 
position,  forgetful  of  all  else,  did  the  young  American 
place  himself,  for  the  more  full  gratification,  or,  I 
should  say,  appreciation,  of  the  masters  whose  works 
he  had  come  to  study.  His  deportment  and  criti¬ 
cism  showed  a  determination  to  test  the  respective 
merits  of  the  artists,  regardless  of  personal  discomfort, 
and  to  the  full  extent  of  his  knowledge  and  circum¬ 
stances. 

While  he  was  thus  engaged  there  came  in  a  large 
party  of  Americans,  composed  of  the  usual  travelling 
elements ;  masters  and  misses,  grown-up  children, 
parents  still  in  the  vigor  of  life,  and  young  men  fresh 
from  college,  all  under  the  charge  of  a  valet  de  place, 
whom  they  were  evidently  urging  to  “do  up  the 
sights”  in  the  most  expeditious  manner  possible.  They 
passed  through  the  sacristy  without  once  noticing  the 
paintings  on  the  ceiling,  turned  away  in  disgust  from 
Tintoretto,  hurried  into  the  church,  paused  a  moment 
before  some  flashy  modern  trick  of  art,  and  in  five 
minutes  had  made  the  tour  of  a  building  which  con¬ 
tains  enough,  if  properly  studied,  to  have  occupied 
them  for  as  many  months.  And  this  is  the  way  the 
majority  of  tourists  contemn  their  own  souls !  Wilfully 
blinding  themselves  to  lessons  of  high  import,  whether 
if  nature  or  art,  they  turn  heedless  alike  from  the  free 
gift  of  either,  and  find  delight  only  in  the  contents  of 


4 


ART- HINTS. 


shop-windows,  the  trappings  of  equipage,  insignia  of  rank, 
and  the  falsities  of  miscalled  society.  Which  of  these 
two  classes  of  visitors  will  stand  justified  before  their 

OPPORTUNITIES  ? 

Pearls  to  swine  may  seem  a  disrespectful  simile, 
but  the  sad  truth  that  the  multitudes  who  yearly  pour 
from  America  to  do  the  European  tour,  wantonly  dis¬ 
regard  the  teachings  of  noble  minds,  tbe  outpourings 
of  soul,  lavished  in  art-language,  to  the  end  that  they 
may  see  and  feel  new  capacities  within  them,  capaci¬ 
ties,  that,  like  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  life,  would  make 
them  live  for  ever;  such  a  truth,  I  repeat,  justifies 
the  application. 

T o  what  end  is  travel  ? 

The  contrast  between  the  social  and  political  prin¬ 
ciples  of  America  and  Europe  being  so  broad,  my 
remarks  are  intended  chiefly  to  cover  those  grand 
distinctions  with  the  relative  duties  arising  from  each. 
Still,  the  general  ideas  will  be  applicable  to  every 
individual,  of  whatever  nation,  viewing  him  simply  as 
a  member  of  a  social  and  political  community.  To 
what  end  then  is  travel  ?  The  reply  to  this  involves 
the  recognition  of  the  elementary  differences  in  all  that 
relates  to  civilization  between  Europe  and  America. 

It  is  incumbent  then,  for  me,  firstly,  to  broadly 
specify  these  differences  and  their  causes. 

The  chief  difference  with  which  we  have  now  to  do 
lies  in  the  position  of  Art  on  either  continent.  In 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING. 


£> 


Europe  it  is  a  recognized  necessity — in  America  it 
remains  a  struggling  impulse. 

Man  is  twofold  in  his  nature — material  and  spiritual. 
The  material  conforms  itself  to  the  outer  view  of 
things.  It  takes  cognizance  of  creative  matter  in  its 
external  form  and  internal  construction,  weighs,  exa¬ 
mines,  analyses,  invents,  combines ;  in  short,  probes 
the  physical  world  to  its  core  to  learn  its  laws  and 
apply  them  to  its  service.  We  call  the  knowledge 
which  we  thus  obtain  of  nature,  Science.  It  deals 
with  things,  facts,  substances,  and  their  relations  to  each 
other,  as  they  exist  to  our  external  senses.  The 
object  of  Science  is  the  exploration  and  subjugation  of 
material  nature  to  our  use  and  comfort.  In  it  lies 
the  power  and  dominion  given  by  God  to  Adam  in 
Paradise  over  all  created  things,  with  the  injunction  to 
replenish,  that  is,  to  civilize  the  earth.  This  subju¬ 
gation  of  matter  to  Use  is  then  man’s  first  necessity. 
But  as  soon  as  the  wants  of  the  body  are  satisfied, 
there  arise  others  more  subtle,  intangible,  but  equally 
craving.  These  spring  from  the  second  or  inner 
principle  of  our  nature,  which,  to  distinguish  from  what 
we  can  touch,  see,  and  feel,  through  external  sense, 
we  term  the  Spirit.  This  principle  is  susceptible  of 
two  grand  divisions,  viz.,  Morality,  comprising  religion 
in  all  its  relations,  and  Ideality,  in  its  connection  with 
Beauty. 

The  two  are  intimately  associated,  as  will  be  shown 


6 


ART-HINTS. 


in  future  chapters,  being  bound  together  by  great  and 
immutable  principles  fixed  by  God  in  the  universe. 
It  is,  however,  with  the  latter  which  we  have  directly 
to  deal  in  these  “  Hints,”  and  only  incidentally  with  the 
former. 

No  want  has  been  planted  in  the  human  race  with¬ 
out  corresponding  sources  of  gratification.  For  the 
body  the  earth  provides  material  for  food,  raiment, 
habitation,  all  that  ease  can  desire,  nay  more,  every 
luxury  which  man,  in  his  mental  wantonness,  seeks  out 
or  invents  to  his  own  corruption  and  enfeeblement. 
For  the  Soul,  in  its  connection  with  Beauty,  Nature  is 
equally  lavish.  She  supplies  form,  color,  and  all 
that  can  stimulate  Thought  or  excite  the  Imagination. 
The  province  of  the  Spirit  is  not  merely  the  aspect  but 
the  essence  of  things.  It  deals  not  in  anatomy  or 
in  analysis  ;  it  neither  calculates  nor  combines  ;  it  seeks 
not  to  count  the  pulsations  of  the  heart,  but  it  does 
seek  to  know  why  it  was  created,  to  interpret  the  lan¬ 
guage  of  the  universe,  and  through  the  Beauty  so 
profusely  distributed  by  its  Author  over  his  works,  to 
know  Him. 

Science  then  represents  matter.  Its  dominion  goes 
not  beyond  substance.  That  which  manifests  to  us 
phenomena,  whether  of  Nature  or  the  Soul,  which,  in 
delighting  the  senses  speaks  to  the  heart,  we  call  Art. 
Its  high  office  is  to  portray  the  Spirit.  Both  Science 
and  Art  are  essential  to  the  complete  existence  of  man. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  7 

This  principle  holds  true  as  well  in  national  as  in 
individual  existence.  Either  extreme  of  culture,  how¬ 
ever,  has  its  evil.  The  tendency  of  the  two  great 
branches  of  the  human  family,  which  have  ever  divided 
the  dominion  of  the  earth  between  them,  has  not  been 
to  an  equilibrium  in  scientific  and  aesthetic  culture. 
Alternating,  as  in  their  martial  conquests,  from  one 
extreme  to  the  other,  they  have  too  frequently  lost 
their  vigor  in  sensuality  or  quenched  their  imagina¬ 
tion  in  cold  abstraction  and  barren  scientific  truths. 
The  tendency  of  the  imagination,  unchecked  by  reason, 
is  undoubtedly  to  weakness  and  ruin.  Excessive  fer¬ 
tility  generates  excessive  decay.  On  the  other  hand, 
reason  unsoftened  by  imagination,  although  it  may 
lead  to  power,  deprives  life  of  pleasure.  It  is  all 
work  and  no  play.  Like  the  stern  mountain  top,  with 
its  glittering  glacier,  we  admire  its  mocking  hues  and 
cold  sublimity  at  a  distance.  Near  to,  it  chills  and 
repels.  But  the  tropical  shade,  with  all  its  equivocal 
mixture  of  serpents  and  flowers,  poison  and  pleasure, 
we  hie  to  for  repose.  This  is  the  universal  tendency 
of  man  when  he  has  once  tasted  the  delights  of  Beauty. 
A  fatal  gift  unmixed  with  reason  and  unbridled  by 
morality,  but  equally  balanced  with  the  two,  a  boon 
worthy  of  the  bestowal  of  Divinity  upon  Humanity. 

The  tendency  of  the  older  civilization,  derived  from 
the  Greco-Roman  races,  has  ever  been  to  the  former 
bias.  Imagination,  or  the  “  play  impulse,”  as  the 


8 


ART-HINTS. 


Germans  comprehensively  define  the  idea,  often  usurps 
the  sovereignty  of  reason,  and  leads  captive  morality. 
Art  born  in  freedom  was  true  to  its  mission  so  long  as 
man  worshipped  in  sincerity  and  truth.  Made,  how¬ 
ever,  the  handmaid  of  Sense,  it  revenged  its  degrada¬ 
tion  by  enslaving  its  enslavers  and  by  becoming  the 
instrument  of  tyranny  to  steel  the  spirit  into  the  doc¬ 
trine  of  passive  obedience.  The  social  and  political 
institutions  were  neglected  for  the  excitements  of  sen¬ 
suality  and  amusement.  Education,  freedom  of  mind, 
and  individual  enterprise — the  substantial  bases  of  a 
nation’s  prosperity — were  lost  sight  of,  or  cunningly 
diverted  by  tyrants  into  corrupt  channels,  so  that  with 
all  those  races  history  shows  the  same  final  result. 
First,  a  development  of  energy  and  virtue ;  second, 
refinement  and  power ;  then  speedy  enervation  and 
consequent  decay,  until  ignorance,  superstition,  and 
poverty  have  come  at  last  to  be  the  established  order 
of  things  over  the  fairest  portions  of  the  globe. 

Whether  this  be  the  inevitable  result  of  aesthetic 
culture,  as  history  would  seem  to  suggest,  remains  for 
us  to  discuss  in  another  place. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Teutonic  races,  owing  more, 
perhaps,  to  influences  of  climate  than  to  constitutional 
differences  in  man,  have  turned  their  attention  mainly 
to  Science.  Material  power  abides  with  them.  They 
rule  and  civilize  the  world  in  all  that  Science  can  do 
as  paramount  to  Art.  The  electric  telegraph,  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING  9 

• 

railroad,  the  steam-boat,  the  armed  leviathans  of  the 
ocean,  everything  that  the  mind  can  create  out  of 
matter,  for  purposes  of  wealth,  comfort,  safety,  and 
power,  from  iron  rods  that  disarm  the  lightning  of  its 
terrors  to  needle-points  so  sharp  that  the  eye  can 
scarcely  trace  them  ;  in  fine,  all  the  wide  scope  of 
Manufacture  is  theirs.  In  the  Germanic  European 
races  this  luxury  and  strength  are  leavened  with  a 
large  admixture  of  the  play  impulse — more  formerly 
than  now,  so  that  as  nations  they  have  not  as  yet 
experienced  the  vicissitudes  of  their  more  southern 
brethren.  The  religious  element  of  their  spiritual  im¬ 
pulse  has  entered  largely  into  their  political  organiza¬ 
tion,  combining  with  and  strengthening  their  scientific 
tendency,  so  that  the  races  of  this  origin,  more  particu¬ 
larly  the  English  branches,  present  to  history  the  firmest 
and  most  enlightened  governments  which  the  world 
has  as  yet  seen.  Still  the  tendency  of  these  nations  is 
towards  materialism.  This  arises  from  an  exaggera¬ 
tion  of  the  value  of  scientific  truths  and  their  merely 
mechanical  results ;  also  from  the  gradual  absorption 
of  the  spirit  of  religion  into  forms  and  creeds — words 
without  life — whose  chief  effect  is  a  paralysis  of  the  soul. 

Puritanism,  as  exhibited  in  the  days  of  the  Com¬ 
monwealth  of  England,  is  a  striking  example  of  the 
ascendency  of  the  merely  religious  element  to  the 
annihilation  of  ideality,  with  its  offspring  taste  and 

refinement.  Strong  only  in  an  alliance  with  a  stern 

B* 


10 


ART-HINTS. 


civil  polity,  it  fell  as  soon  as  the  human  mind  had 
scope  for  its  aesthetic  impulses.  Puritanism  is  Pro¬ 
testant  asceticism,  and  can  no  more  become  the  rule 
of  mankind  than  can  the  monkish  practices  and  celi¬ 
bacy  of  Romanism.  Nature  avenges  every  violation 
of  her  healthful  instincts.  She  abhors  one-sided  hu¬ 
manities.  The  only  safe  guide  is  temperance  in  the 
employment  and  consequent  enjoyment  of  all  our 
faculties.  England  paid  for  the  bigotry  of  Puritanism 
in  the  license  of  the  Restoration.  God  is  no  more 
honored  by  foul  fear  and  unwholesome  restraints, 
than  by  foul  license  and  unwholesome  liberty.  “  Per¬ 
fect  love  casteth  out  all  fear consequently  its  true 
spirit  is  freedom.  Wherever  this  exists  there  is  hope 
for  progress. 

Science  alone  is  not  sufficient  for  a  nation’s  pros¬ 
perity.  Religion,  dwarfed  into  a  panoply  of  forms, 
creeds,  and  restraints,  is  equally  insufficient  by  itself. 
The  two  properly  combined  and  understood  form  a 
strong  phalanx,  but  to  make  that  phalanx  impenetrable 
to  the  shafts  of  atheism,  bigotry,  and  revolutionary 
license,  the  mental  trinity  should  be  complete.  Beauty, 
the  sentiment  which  God  has  bestowed  on  man  for 
his  enjoyment,  mark,  not  use  or  worship,  must  be 
superadded.  It  is  his  free  gift  to  loving  spirits,  blessing 
alike  all,  and  requiring  no  labor  to  obtain,  beyond 
its  quiet  reception  and  partial  divorce  from  the  things 
of  sense. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  II 

This  broad  principle  of  Divine  government  I  hope 
fully  to  establish  as  I  proceed  in  the  gradual  develop¬ 
ment  of  the  ideas,  which  I  wish  to  present  to  the  con¬ 
sideration  of  my  fellow-beings,  not  as  anything  new, 
but  as  important  to  be  kept  constantly  in  view,  for  the 
full  appreciation  of  the  pleasures  of  even  an  earthly 
existence.  I  particularly  wish  to  call  the  attention  of 
Americans  to  the  one  thing  needful  to  exalt  our  be- 
beloved  republic  to  a  pitch  of  grandeur  and  prosperity, 
with  consequent  intelligence  and  refinement,  which  no 
nation  has  as  yet  ever  reached. 

America-— I  mean  the  United  States — is  but  just  gird¬ 
ing  her  loins  for  the  race  set  before  her.  While  men 
have  to  contend  with  stern  nature,  winning  civilization 
step  by  step  from  the  wilderness,  they  have  no  leisure 
for  aught  but  the  necessary.  The  useful  is  Ihe  next, 
step.  Then  come  the  requirements  of  ease  and  luxury, 
and  their  attendant  train  of  degenerating  influences. 
In  the  United  States  we  have  arrived  at  that  period  of 
our  national  career  ;  or  rather,  while  on  our  frontiers, 
the  strife  of  man  with  nature  is  in  constant  progress, 
on  our  sea-board  we  have  enslaved  her  to  the  adminis¬ 
tration  of  our  sensual  comforts  to  a  degree  that  no 
other  nation  has  ever  rivalled  on  so  gigantic  a  scale. 
History  tells  us  there  is  danger  in  this.  Upholstery, 
dainty  furniture,  mechanics  racked  to  construct  in 
quantities  those  things  that  tend  to  glitter  or  mislead, 
machinery  multiplied  for  the  fabrication  of  all  objects, 


12 


ART-HINTS. 


not  only  of  use  but  of  ornament,  art  degraded  to  manu¬ 
facture,  all  bespeak  a  people  with  their  eyes  yet 
unopened  to  a  sense  of  their  full  capacity  for  greatness 
and  refinement.  There  is  no  halting-place  in  a  nation’s 
career.  She  advances  or  recedes.  If  she  mistake  the 
road,  others  advance  on  the  right  track  and  secure  the 
prize.  There  is  more  hope  for  America  in  her  future 
than  for  any  other  nation.  In  proportion  to  her  hope 
is  also  her  danger,  for  the  principle  which  bids  her 
soar  is  equally  active  to  bring  her  down.  This  prin¬ 
ciple  is  freedom  of  mind.  Elsewhere  the  governments 
make  their  subjects ;  in  America,  alone,  individuals 
make  their  governments ;  as  is  the  individual  so  is  the 
government.  The  importance  then  of  rightly  direct¬ 
ing  not  only  the  principles  but  the  taste — in  its  full 
significance,  to  be  hereafter  defined — is  self-evident. 
The  love  and  fear  of  God  is  indeed  the  keystone  to  the 
political  arch.  In  proportion  as  religion  demonstrates 
these  principles  in  their  acceptance  to  man,  in  that 
proportion  are  they  wise  for  this  life  and  safe  for 
another.  But.  strip  religion  of  its  element  of  beauty, 
crush  the  taste  and  refinement  of  a  nation  in  the  ana¬ 
conda  grasp  of  bigotry,  and  you  shut  out  heaven  from 
earth,  and  turn  earth  itself  into  a  wilderness  of  un¬ 
profitable  duties.  Heroic  virtues  and  stern  self-denial 
are  for  times  of  trial,  when  the  soul’s  energies  must  be 
concentrated  by  the  struggles  of  existence  into  mighty 
efforts.  But  with  the  passing  of  the  storm  comes  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  13 

sunshine.  Hearts  are  to  soften  and  expand  under  its 
genial  warmth.  Love  is  to  elevate  and  taste  to  refine 
them.  The  energies  which  have  raised  America  to 
the  position  of  an  enigma  for  all  nations  must  still 
find  employment.  License,  the  fruit  of  misdirected 
passion,  and  effeminacy,  the  canker  of  luxury,  are 
equally  stumbling-blocks  in  her  progress.  She  has 
strength  and  wealth,  freedom  and  mental  activity.  The 
right  direction  to  be  given  to  each  is  the  problem  to 
settle.  Art  looks  to  America  with  open  arms.  How 
is  it  to  he  carried  there?  Not  by  misses  who  run  over 
Europe  and  bring  back  a  cabin-load  of  new  bonnets, 
with  dresses  and  trinkets  to  match  ;  neither  by  women 
whose  aim  is  display  and  ruling  principle  vanity  ;  nor  by 
young  gentlemen  whose  attainments  are  limited  to  the 
run  of  “  cafes  ”  and  gambling  saloons.  We  have  too 
many  of  them,  and  too  many  of  such  families  as  that 
of  Santa  Maria  della  Salute,  whose  sole  reminiscences 
of  European  travel  are  the  number  and  not  the  quality 
of  sights.  We  need  Art-students,  men  of  sincerity 
and  labor,  who  will  not  hesitate  to  go  on  their  backs 
and  knees,  if  need  be  in  the  dust,  to  read  the  soul- 
language  of  the  mightiest  minds  in  Europe. 

Europe  is  a  storehouse  of  Art,  but  its  value  and 
lessons  are  lost  in  a  great  measure  upon  the  nations  that 
gave  it  birth.  Still  those  silent  voices  speak.  Out  of 
old  churches,  mouldering  tombs,  time-honored  galleries, 
there  go  forth  eternal  principles  of  truth,  if  rightly 


14 


APT-HINTS. 


studied  able  to  guide  the  taste  and  warm  the  heart  of 
young  America,  and  urge  her  on  in  the  race  of  renown. 
I  do  not  advocate  blind  copying  of  mind  or  the  recep¬ 
tion  of  laws,  whether  of  taste  or  morality,  without  fully 
proving  their  spirit;  but  I  do  advocate,  and  would 
press  home  to  the  heart  of  every  American  who  goes 
abi'oad,  the  necessity,  if  he  would  do  his  duty  to  his  own 
country,  of  reading  and  interpreting  to  his  country¬ 
men,  so  far  as  in  him  lies,  these  sacred  writings  on  the 
wall.  Talent  is  lent  by  God.  We  are  to  return  it  with 
usury.  I  write  not  for  those  light  minds  who  find 
pleasure  only  in  frivolity,  and  who  travel  simply  for 
excitement ;  their  case  is  hopeless.  I  write  for  my 
young  friend  of  the  Venetian  church.  With  earnest 
souls  like  his  lies  the  artistic  hope  of  America. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  15 


CHAPTER  II. 

man’s  twofold  nature. 

The  confession  of  the  twofold  nature  of  man,  the  ma¬ 
terial  or  real,  and  the  spiritual  or  ideal,  is  a  barren 
truth  of  itself,  unless  it  is  equally  felt.  Without 
feeling,  we  have  no  true  life.  Earnestness  in  all  that 
we  do  is  the  test  of  our  sincerity  and  consequent  ap¬ 
preciation  of  its  importance.  Mankind  need  not  be 
urged  to  supply  their  physical  wants.  The  instincts  of 
matter  impel  them  incessantly  to  the  gratification  of 
their  appetites,  because  sense  in  the  form  of  physical 
humanity,  is  imperious.  Its  wants  must  be  attended 
to,  in  order  that  the  soul  remain  a  contented  tenant  of 
her  earthly  habitation  ;  contented  from  her  freedom  to 
act  and  feel  through  the  medium  of  a  healthful  body. 
This  health  is  the  result  only  of  wholesome  restraints 
upon  instinctive  appetites  and  the  due  subjection  of 
the  body  to  reason. 

Sense  is,  however,  a  subtle  foe  of  the  soul.  So 
palpable  are  its  claims,  so  seductive  its  indulgence, 


16 


ART-HINTS. 


that  men  are  frequently  led  to  ignore  the  existence  of 
the  latter,  by  exclusive  cultivation  of  those  sciences 
whose  ends  are  ease,  luxury,  and  show.  Passions 
and  sentiments,  the  true  objects  of  which  are  preserva¬ 
tive,  become  the  aims  of  existence.  Satiety  instead 
of  warning,  operates  only  as  a  stimulus  to  invention. 
New  sensual  emotions  are  diligently  sought  out  as 
prizes  in  the  race  of  life.  Thus  science  is  degraded 
into  a  system  of  ways  and  means  to  best  perpetuate 
and  vary  the  pleasures  of  sense.  Life  is  valued  solely 
for  what  it  offers  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  material 
nature  of  man.  The  spirit  shrinks  from  this  perversion 
of  the  true  purposes  of  its  fleshly  habitation,  and  either 
dies  away  to  an  occasionally  “  still  small  voice,”  or, 
leaving  man  altogether,  he  becomes  a  believer  solely 
in  what  he  hears,  sees,  and  feels  with  his  external 
sense.  There  is  no  inner  life  left  in  him.  A  practical 
atheist,  he  denies  what  he  cannot  weigh,  measure,  or 
analyse.  The  sense  of  beauty  he  cannot  indeed  wholly 
extinguish,  but  it  is  confined  to  external  form  and 
color,  and  degraded  to  the  low  situation  of  a  pander. 
All  nature  is  resolved  into  sense.  If  God  there  be,  he 
is  a  distant  and  uncertain  being,  all-powerful  doubtless, 
and  surely  all  capricious.  Study  will  not  find  him  out. 
Why  vex  our  minds  with  what  we  cannot  comprehend  ! 
Sufficient  for  us  that  we  eat  and  sleep !  We  can 
understand  nature  because  we  see  her.  Beyond  this 
it  is  all  dark  ;  cease  to  trouble  us  with  theories  that 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  1  7 

cannot  be  demonstrated  in  matter.  Such  is  the  lan¬ 
guage  common  to  a  large  proportion  of  the  educated 
classes  in  Europe.  They  have  shrunk  from  avowing 
themselves  atheists  heretofore  from  fear  of  loss  of 
position,  or  some  of  the  earthly  joys  for  which  they 
sacrifice  their  souls.  Their  numbers  now  embolden 
them  to  openly  avow  their  sentiments.  I  do  not  hesi¬ 
tate  to  assert  that  the  general  tone  of  European  refined 
society  is  open  or  concealed  atheism,  while  the  mass 
of  the  population  are  steeped  in  superstition  scarcely 
less  fatal  to  their  true  dignity  as  beings  capable  of 
becoming  even  as  the  angels  in  heaven.  The  abettor 
of  this  moral  ruin  is  the  church  as  now  constituted. 
Between  Protestantism  and  Romanism  there  is  indeed 
the  wide  gulf  of  individual  freedom  of  thought.  Con¬ 
sequently  the  hope  of  man  and  his  ultimate  progress  to 
the  completion  of  his  personality  lies  exclusively  with 
the  former.  But  the  preachers  of  both  have  become 
blind  leaders  of  the  blind.  The  former  limit  their 
vision  to  irreconcilable  dogmas  and  creeds,  and  the 
latter  to  ceremonies  from  which  the  essence  has  long 
since  fled.  Both  are  more  anxious  to  preserve  their 
own  than  God’s  kingdom.  Both  trammel  thought, 
though  in  different  ways.  Both  not  only  fail  in  satis¬ 
fying  the  entire  man,  but  shock  his  reason  and  cramp 
his  soul.  Protestantism  is  not  exclusively  under  the 
control  of  priestcraft.  Romanism  is.  Which  is  better 
for  man  as  a  whole  their  respective  territorial  boundaries 


18 


ART-HINTS. 


show.  The  difference  between  the  two  is  the  actual 
distinction  between  England  and  Spain,  Italy  and  the 
United  States.  Still  it  is  obvious  to  every  close  observer 
that  the  tendency  of  both  Romanism  and  Protestantism 
among  the  cultivated  classes  is  now  towards  scepticism. 

This  arises  from  a  want  of  proper  balance  in  mental 
cultivation.  The  individual  or  nation  that  devotes 
itself  almost  exclusively  to  science,  in  its  mere  relations 
to  external  things,  rapidly  becomes  sensuous  in  its 
judgments  and  feelings.  The  church  that  concentrates 
religion  into  dogmas  or  ceremonies  fosters  either  doubt 
or  ignorance.  Science  is  good  only  in  relation  to  its 
proper  uses.  Religion  is  manna  for  the  soul  only  so 
far  as  it  directs  and  expands  its  powers  in  relation  to 
man  and  God.  Now  one  means  of  cultivating  the 
ideal  or  theoretic  faculty  is  in  the  study  and  investiga¬ 
tion  of  Nature.  By  Nature,  I  mean  the  entire  thought 
of  God  as  shown  in  his  moral  and  material  universe. 
This  is  the  healthful  employment  and  consequent  de¬ 
velopment  of  the  spiritual  man.  Science  is  the  aid  and 
not  the  end  of  his  labours.  He  is  to  free  himself  from 
the  trammels  of  sense,  and  to  raise  himself  above  the 
mere  material  world,  looking  down  upon  and  into  it, 
until  as  his  eyes  are  opened  he  is  able  to  pierce  its 
mysteries  and  read  its  solemn  teachings.  I  do  not 
wish  to  be  understood  as  depreciating  science  or  despis¬ 
ing  sense.  Both  are  necessary  elements  in  the  compo¬ 
sition  of  humanity.  But  the  relative  consequence  of 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  1 9 

the  material  and  spiritual  man,  is  as  unmeasurable  as 
the  difference  between  thought  and  matter.  Another 
powerful  argument  for  the  cultivation  of  the  ideal 
faculty  exists  in  the  fact-— I  speak  of  course  to  believers 
—that  both  nature  and  revelation  assert  that  through  all 
eternity  we  maintain  or  follow  the  direction  given  by 
our  earthly  identity  ;  that  is,  we  remain  always  our¬ 
selves.  Progress  or  retrogression  there  must  be,  but 
the  principle  “as  the  tree  .falls  so  it  lies,”  is  in  the 
main  a  solemn  truth  ;  one  that  should  stimulate  to  the 
exertion  of  all  our  faculties  for  the  knowledge  and 
comprehension  of  Him  who  bestowed  them. 

The  sense  of  beauty  embraces  within  its  scope  the 
whole  image  of  God  in  his  creation.  Its  employment 
exalts  and  expands  all  the  faculties,  develops  love  and 
gratitude,  divests  religion  of  asceticism  and  sense  of 
satiety.  Every  other  occupation  or  professional  pur¬ 
suit  confines  the  mind  within  positive  limits.  Labor 
deadens  the  spirit ;  mere  business  narrows  its  compre¬ 
hension  ;  while  science  confines  it  to  certain  channels. 
The  study  of  beauty  in  its  spiritual  and  aesthetic  cha¬ 
racter,  alone  fully  develops  the  soul,  and  leads  it  to  a 
recognition  of  its  unlimited  powers.  Every  healthful 
impulse  is  satisfied  in  this.  The  application  of  a  few 
broad  principles  of  observation  is  the  “  open  sesame  ” 
to  the  innate  powers  of  the  soul.  Feeling  is  developed 
by  the  perusal  of  nature.  She  is  free  alike  to  the 
learned  and  to  the  unlearned.  Beauty  is  so  profusely 


20 


ART-HINTS. 


distributed  that  none  need  lack  who  seek  in  sincerity. 
There  is  nothing  too  lofty  for  us  to  approach,  or  too 
insignificant  for  us  to  examine.  We  cannot  see  the 
face  of  God  and  live,  but  we  can  look  upon  his  crea¬ 
tion  and  learn.  Beauty  is  to  the  mind  what  prayer  is 
to  the  soul — its  sustenance  and  exaltation. 

For  the  complete  development  of  man,  therefore, 
feeling  must  combine  with  reason,  each  modifying  and 
impressing  the  other.  Excess  of  the  one  sensualizes ; 
excess  of  the  other  hardens.  The  proper  union  of  the 
two,  play  and  labor,  constitute  the  unity  of  humanity. 
It  is,  therefore,  to  this  happy  combination,  that  indi¬ 
vidual  and  national  efforts  should  be  directed. 

The  form  under  which  beauty  or  the  ideal  is  repre¬ 
sented  to  man  we  call  Art.  By  association  we  have 
become  accustomed  to  look  upon  the  image  as  the 
reality  itself ;  therefore,  for  all  purposes  of  definition, 
we  must  continue  to  consider  Art  as  the  idea  fashioned 
by  man,  while,  rightly  speaking,  it  is  simply  the  form 
by  which  it  is  rendered  cognizant  to  our  senses. 

If,  then,  the  culture  of  the  ideal  be  so  necessary  to 
the  welfare  of  man,  why  is  it  that  experience  has  so 
often  shown  the  incompatibility  of  a  high  degree  of 
artistic  cultivation  with  political  freedom  and  national 
virtue  ?  A  superficial  perusal  of  history  would  seem 
to  warrant  the  conclusion  that  the  fine  arts  are  the 
precursors  of  a  nation’s  decay.  Greece,  Rome,  and 
mediaeval  Italy  have  each,  in  succession,  witnessed  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  2 1 

same  moral  phenomena.  Indeed,  many  profound 
thinkers  are  disposed  to  think  that  refinement  and 
virtue,  courtesy  and  sincerity,  taste  and  vigor,  cannot 
exist  together  in  a  nation.  This  view  is  partial  and 
false.  We  do  see  their  mutual  existence  in  individuals, 
rare,  it  is  true,  but  there  are  sufficient  examples  to 
prove  that  what  is  possible  in  them  is  possible  also  in  a 
nation. 

Greece,  Rome,  and  Italy,  fell  not  from  their  devo¬ 
tion  to  Art,  but  from  their  perversion  of  it.  In  the 
first  it  took  the  direction  of  sensuous  beauty.  Their 
artistic  mind  was  directed  towards  its  external  expres¬ 
sion,  or  the  exhibition  of  the  lower  passions  and  sen¬ 
timents.  No  race  was  ever  more  keenly  sensible  to 
physical  beauty  and  to  all  the  emotions  natural  to  man ; 
but  of  divinity,  the  true  study  of  the  soul,  they  were 
ignorant.  They  fell  from  worshipping  the  idol  of  sense. 

Rome,  unable  to  appreciate  the  aesthetic  culture  of 
the  Greeks,  borrowed  her  forms,  and  possessed  her 
beauty,  without  her  refinement.  She  worshipped  men¬ 
tal  and  brutal  force.  Her  idols  were  purely  physical 
— strength,  energy,  and  power — which,  with  the  popu¬ 
lace,  degenerated  into  lust  and  brutality.  Her  whole 
religious  and  political  system  being  false  to  the  noblest 
instincts  of  humanity,  it  fell,  dragging  Art  with  it, 
until  it  was  lost,  even  in  name.  The  sole  refinement 
possessed  by  the  Romans  they  owed  to  Art,  and  when 
that  perished,  they  perished  also. 


22 


ART-HINTS. 


We  now  come  to  the  mediaeval  cities  of  Italy.  Here 
Art  took  the  highest  position  it  has  as  yet  reached. 
This  was  owing  to  two  causes.  Firstly,  freedom  ;  de¬ 
magogical  turbulence  or  oligarchical  violence,  term  it 
what  you  will,  the  fact  that  the  mind  was  active  and 
free  in  those  days,  asserting  its  dignity  in  crimes  as 
well  as  virtues,  it  must  be  admitted,  but  still,  that  it 
was  alive  with  energy  cannot  be  denied.  The  conse¬ 
quence  was,  that  having  a  constitutional  tendency 
towards  Art,  it  speedily  developed  itself  in  suggestive 
works  of  every  nature. 

Religion  was  the  second  cause,  and  the  one  which 
gave  it  direction.  Art  then  took  its  true  position,  that 
of  teacher.  Sincerity  supplied  the  lack  of  skill,  and 
gave  a  power  that  mere  skill  can  never  attain.  Amid 
popular  tumults,  civil  wars,  famines,  plagues,  costly 
mercantile  enterprises,  and  all  those  causes  which  with 
other  races  would  be  deemed  sufficient  to  suspend  all 
Art,  arose  the  noblest  edifices,  private  and  public,  the 
world  has  ever  seen ;  cathedrals,  churches,  campaniles, 
towers,  palaces,  statuary,  paintings,  sincere  in  their 
design,  costly  beyond  parallel  in  their  construction, 
each  significant  of  its  purposes  and  stamped  with 
thought,  arose  like  magic  all  over  Italy.  These  were 
not  the  works  of  kingdoms,  but  of  republics  ;  the  people 
contributed  their  money  and  gloried  in  their  sacrifices, 
so  that  they  could  honor  God  or  their  country  by  the 
free  offering  of  their  minds  and  wealth.  Go  where 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  23 

you  will  in  Italy,  you  see  this  stamp  of  medievalism 
in  her  soil.  Her  true  greatness  sprung  from  her  love 
of  Art  sanctified  by  her  religion. 

At  present,  I  can  only  allude  to  the  fact ;  later  I 
shall  prove  the  statement.  She  fell,  and  lamentable 
is  the  fall,  for  her  fall  has  cast  suspicion  upon  what 
was  really  the  true  cause  of  her  glory — her  Art ;  but 
she  did  not  fall  until,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  popes 
and  princes  took  it  to  their  bosoms,  and  patronized  it, 
not  for  Art,  but  for  their  own  self-glorification  and 
the  enslavement  of  their  subjects.  The  Medici  in 
Rome  and  Florence,  as  heads  of  the  Church,  or  as 
heads  of  the  State,  debased  and  sensualized  Art ;  with 
them  it  became  a  vile  instrument  of  unholy  designs. 
Religion  and  freedom  both  alike  deserted  it,  for  they 
are  at  home  solely  with  truth,  virtue,  and  sincerity. 
It  was  Art  no  longer  ;  a  bastard,  born  of  tyranny  and 
sensuality,  usurped  its  place.  From  the  time  that 
Raphael  became  a  courtier,  and  Buonarotti  a  servant 
of  princes,  religious  Art  fled  in  despair  from  the  un¬ 
natural  connection.  Since  then  we  have  had  many 
schools  and  much  patronage,  but  of  Art  in  its  sincere 
spiritual  expression,  absolutely  nothing. 

Inasmuch  as  Art  obtained  its  highest  elevation  in 
Italy,  so  it  there  fell  to  its  lowest  ebb :  in  no  country 
has  its  decay  been  so  complete.  The  substitution  of 
sensualism  and  slavery  for  freedom  and  religion,  by 
depriving  it  of  all  vitality,  has  made  its  utter  degra- 


24 


ART- HINTS. 


dation  the  more  apparent.  Other  nations  there  are 
with  whom  Art  is  comparatively  a  stranger  ;  but  never 
having  assumed  among  them  an  equal  position,  we  do 
not  feel  so  deeply  the  extent  of  its  abasement.  In 
Italy  it  is  otherwise  ;  noble  it  was  in  its  elevation,  con¬ 
temptible  it  became  in  its  downfall. 

I  think  that  no  unbiassed  student  of  history  can 
come  to  other  conclusions  than  the  following,  as  to  the 
effect  of  Art  on  the  destinies  of  those  nations  whose  fall 
is  justly  considered  to  have  been  heralded  by  increased 
luxury  and  depravity  of  manners. 

Art  with  the  Greek  was  a  sentiment ;  it  expressed 
all  he  knew  or  cared  for  of  nature.  Physical  beauty 
and  artistically-rendered  human  emotion  were  his  aims- 
There  was  no  divinity  in  his  Art ;  on  the  contrary,  he 
made  men  of  his  gods ;  it  was  purely  of  the  earth — 
refilled  clay,  however — and  its  effect  was  to  refine  and 
idealize  his  manners.  Art  contributed  to  his  civiliza¬ 
tion  ;  it  made  him  the  subtle-minded,  sensuous  man  of 
antiquity  ;  it  carried  him  to  as  elevated  a  position  as 
his  nature,  unenlightened  by  revelation,  was  capable  of 
arriving  at ;  it  discovered  and  applied  broad  artistic 
truths,  but  its  knowledge  was  confined.  Of  landscape 
art,  of  that  pure  love  for  the  natural  world  of  which 
we  begin  to  find  examples  in  modern  times,  we  have 
no  evidence  that  he  knew  or  felt  anything.  His  ima¬ 
gination,  it  is  true,  teemed  with  intellectual  apparitions ; 
but  though  they  amused  his  mind,  they  were  not  of  a 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  25 

nature  to  elevate  bis  soul.  Art,  therefore,  with  the 
Greek,  though  idealised  to  the  full  extent  of  human 
intellect,  was  never  the  complete  expression  of  its 
divine  power ;  hence  it  was  inadequate  to  preserve 
him  from  his  own  sensuous  proclivities.  It  sustained 
and  refined  him  in  just  that  degree  in  which  he  ad¬ 
mitted  its  truths,  but  it  must  not  be  made  responsible 
for  vicious  political  institutions  and  selfish  passions. 

Rome  received  Art  solely  as  a  mistress  ;  it  amused 
her  idle  hours,  excited  her  passions,  and  gratified  her 
vanity.  She  made  it  in  everything  the  instrument  of 
sense.  Art  graced  her  downfall,  hut  did  not  cause  it. 

While  Art  was  the  teacher  in  Italy,  she  was  strong 
and  vigorous ;  her  political  health,  that  is  to  say,  the 
vigor  and  enterprise  of  her  civic  communities,  kept 
pace  with  their  religious  sincerity.  It  was  the  instru¬ 
ment  to  elevate  and  stimulate  the  people.  When  it 
became  the  slave  of  their  rulers,  it  immolated  itself  on 
the  altar  of  its  own  degradation. 

Art,  therefore,  was  an  incomplete  expression  in  each 
of  those  nations.  In  Greece  its  superior  manifestation 
was  taste,  in  its  loftiest  intellectual  interpretation.  In 
Rome,  it  may  be  characterized  as  fashion;  but  in 
mediaeval  Italy  it  took  the  nobler  form  of  feeling. 

Until  we  have  had  the  experience  of  the  perfect  de¬ 
velopment  of  Art  upon  the  mind  of  a  nation,  it  is  as 
presumptuous  to  deny  its  capacity  to  permanently 
elevate  and  refine,  as  it  would  be  in  the  miner  to  eom- 


c 


26 


ART-HINTS. 


pare  the  flickering  lamplight  with  which  he  pursues 
his  labor  to  the  meridian  sun. 

The  light  that  we  have  had  attests  its  twofold  power 
as  an  element  of  civilization.  As  surely  as  sense  de¬ 
grades  it  to  the  position  of  slave,  so  surely  does  it 
revenge  itself  by  bringing  man  to  the  lowest  level  of 
his  material  nature :  on  the  other  hand,  in  the  degree 
that  man  listens  to  Art  as  the  interpreter  of  the  nobler 
instincts  of  his  nature,  just  in  that  degree  does  it 
unfold  its  capacity  to  refine  and  elevate  him.  Civiliza¬ 
tion,  by  disclosing  new  wants,  creates  new  bonds.  The 
play-want,  comprising  every  development  of  the  fancy 
and  imagination,  looking  to  ornament  distinct  from  use 
as  one  of  its  realizations,  and  the  thought-language  as 
distinguishing  idea  from  form,  are  implanted  by  nature 
in  the  heart  of  the  human  race.  We  trace  it  equally 
in  the  feather  coronets  and  carved  paddles  of  the  sa¬ 
vage  ;  in  the  rude  and  energetic  verse  of  barbarous 
nations,  in  the  songs  of  Sappho  and  chisellings  of  a 
Phidias.  By  turns  it  is  solemn,  as  with  the  imposing 
architecture  of  Egypt  and  Nineveh  ;  beautiful,  as  seen 
in  the  exquisite  proportions  of  Greek  Art ;  grand,  as 
among  the  amphitheatres,  aqueducts,  and  arched  temples 
of  old  Rome ;  grotesque  and  fanciful  in  its  Gothic 
manifestations  ;  thoughtful,  too,  and  suggestive.  Art 
has  assumed  in  each  age  a  special  individuality,  whether 
in  music,  poetry,  form,  or  color;  in  none  have  its 
capacities  been  exhausted  or  wholly  comprehended. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  2? 

The  people  are  yet  to  exist  who  will  allow  the  full 
exercise  of  its  sovereignty.  No  nation  has  ever  been 
in  so  favorable  a  position  as  the  United  States  of 
America,  for  the  complete  development  of  those  ideal 
faculties  of  which  Art  is  language.  In  extent  em¬ 
bracing,  as  it  were,  a  continent,  with  the  varieties  of 
climate  most  favorable  to  intellectual  activity  ;  with  a 
nature  fresh  and  exhaustless  within  their  boundaries ; 
accumulations  of  wealth  that  can  cause  material  matter 
to  live  and  grow  at  its  bidding ;  mind  well  fixed  in 
religious  and  political  truths ;  enterprise  without  limit ; 
freedom  of  thought  and  rivalry  of  intellect  that  seizes 
upon  and  develops  ideas,  working  them  out  to  their 
practical  results — in  fine,  scope  for  the  entire  nature  of 
man ;  all  this  mingled  with  an  infusion  of  the  best 
blood  of  older  civilizations,  combining  their  two  great 
northern  and  southern  elements,  constitute  a  power  for 
progress  to  which  past  history  can  fix  no  limits.  It 
remains  but  for  America  to  demonstrate  that  the  culti¬ 
vation  of  Art  is  compatible  with  freedom,  and  that, 
with  the  spread  of  taste  and  refinement,  she  loses 
neither  vigor  nor  sincerity. 


28 


ART- HINTS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ART  IN  RELATION  TO  HISTORY — ITS  RISE. 

Before  proceeding  to  the  consideration  of  Art  in  its 
relations  to  taste  and  the  imagination,  in  fine  to  its 
entire  connexion  with  the  spiritual  man,  it  will  be 
expedient  to  review  briefly  its  several  positions  histori¬ 
cally,  during  its  most  conspicuous  manifestations. 
This  inquiry  is  important,  as  it  elucidates  the  different 
forms  it  assumed  under  the  force  of  external  circum¬ 
stances.  In  fact,  it  is  the  investigation  of  Art  simply 
in  its  broad  human  relations,  independent  of  its  own 
immutable  truths.  By  this  I  do  not  comprehend  its 
division  into  schools,  which  is  a  different  subject  of 
investigation,  but  the  national  directions  it  has  taken, 
owing  to  political  institutions.  From  this  inquiry  may 
be  gathered  the  lesson  most  needed  by  nations  whose 
Art  career  is  yet  to  commence,  viz.,  what  political 
conditions  are  most  favourable  to  its  perfect  develop¬ 
ment,  and  what  dangers  are  most  to  be  dreaded  from 
its  perversion.  In  the  preceding  chapter  these  points 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  29 

were  merely  glanced  at,  but  in  this  I  trust  to  put 
those  inferences  which  I  therein  presented  on  an  unas¬ 
sailable  basis. 

With  savage  or  semi-civilized  life,  and  its  untutored 
impulses,  I  shall  not  meddle.  The  former  condition 
naturally  tends  to  violence,  and  the  latter  to  stagna¬ 
tion.  To  ascertain  this  fact,  one  has  but  to  look  to 
the  Arab  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  Chinaman  on  the 
other.  The  American  Indian  manifests  no  surprise  at 
new  and  beautiful  artificial  forms,  because  he  does  not 
know  enough  to  do  so.  His  mind  has  no  starting 
point  of  comparison.  A  Mussulman  is  but  half  a  man  ; 
he  condemns  high  art  as  idolatry  while  worshipping 
gross  matter.  Art  in  its  European  development  is  an 
enigma  to  such  races.  Wherever  it  is  least  under¬ 
stood  it  is  most  despised.  This  misunderstanding 
proceeds  from  two  causes.  First,  ignorance,  like 
that  of  the  American  farmer,  who  could  see  in  a  statue 
out  of  doors  only  a  marble  scarecrow,  for  all  purposes 
of  which  an  old  hat  and  ragged  coat  on  a  stake  would 
have  been  far  better  and  cheaper.  Secondly,  from 
misapprehension,  as  in  the  Puritan  and  the  Quaker, 
who  view  it  as  the  arch-enemy  of  their  souls.  When 
such  men  come  to  know  its  truth  and  beauty,  they  will 
welcome  it  as  the  ally  of  Providence  to  lead  their 
minds  to  pure  sources  of  pleasure.  There  is  hope 
for  them  both,  for  their  sin  is  rooted  in  sincerity. 

One  object,  therefore,  of  this  chapter  will  be  to 


30 


AKT-IIINTS. 


point  out  the  different  sources  from  which  those  na¬ 
tions  which  have  acquired  fame  in  Art  derived  their 
inspiration.  It  will  then  be  easy  to  detect  the  false, 
and  do  justice  to  the  true  element.  Imagination, 
through  Art,  mirrors  the  national  or  individual  soul. 
The  character  of  the  Artist,  or  his  Age,  can  be  read 
in  his  works. 

There  is  a  uniformity  of  character  in  the  Archi¬ 
tecture  of  the  earliest  civilized  races  with  which  we  have 
acquaintance,  as,  for  instance,  the  Egyptian  and  Nine- 
vite,  which  warrants  their  being  classed  together. 
Their  painting  is  comprised  in  their  architecture.  It  is 
simple  and  truth-telling,  relating  events  as  children 
tell  tales,  in  the  fewest  and  plainest  words ;  without 
variety  or  truth  of  outline  ;  one  story  being  the  type 
of  all.  Colors  are  all  positive  and  strongly  laid  on. 
In  architecture  we  have  the  same  simplicity  of  forms 
combined  with  majesty  and  oddity  of  design.  It  can 
hardly  be  called  grotesque,  yet  it  is  magnificently 
ideal,  suggestive  of  power  and  durability  throughout. 
No  one  who  examines  it  can  fail  to  perceive  that  it  is 
the  working  out  of  the  ideas  of  the  few  by  the  hands 
of  the  many.  The  people  were  mere 'machines,  whose 
sole  tasks  were  to  repeat  these  Ideas  according  to  given 
pattern  and  rule,  into  which  their  own  minds  no  more 
entered  than  into  the  fashioning  of  bricks.  Conse¬ 
quently,  Art  in  these  countries  was  the  mechanical 
carrying  out  by  slaves  of  the  imaginations  of  their 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  31 

lords.  There  was  no  real  life  or  natural  variety 
m  it.  It  embodied  those  essential  elements  of  sub¬ 
limity  and  power  which  are  the  attributes  of  all  lofty 
understandings  born  in  absolute  rule.  In  those  cha¬ 
racteristics  it  has  never  been  surpassed  ;  but  it  perished 
with  the  despotism  that  gave  it  birth. 

In  Greece  we  find  the  opposite  of  all  this.  It  was 
the  embodiment  of  physical  beauty  in  its  most  perfect 
forms  and  happy  moods.  The  people  gave  vent  to 
their  imagination  and  worked  out  the  results  with  their 
own  hands.  As  far  as  their  religion  led  them  they 
went.  In  all  that  they  attempted  they  were  sincere. 
They  watched  for  those  moments  when  the  action 
which  they  wished  to  represent  was  the  most  complete, 
and  in  harmony  with  the  entire  nature.  But  my  pre¬ 
sent  object  is  not  to  criticise  their  works,  or  investigate 
their  rules  of  Art,  but  simply  to  point  out  its  motives 
and  the  results.  Their  intellectual  freedom  led  them 
to  the  highest  pitch  of  intellectual  greatness  in  Art, 
which  the  world  has  as  yet  witnessed.  Succeeding 
ages  have  found  out  higher  motives  and  more  noble 
aims,  but  so  far  as  the  Greeks  studied  they  perfected 
Art,  and  it  elevated  them  correspondingly.  This  ele¬ 
vation  was,  however,  solely  of  the  intellectual  faculties. 
It  did  not  touch  the  heart.  Consequently,  lacking  the 
proper  balance  of  healthful  feeling,  it  drew  them  by 
its  inability  to  go  beyond  the  appreciation  of  external 
and  mental  beauty  into  the  dangerous  path  of  sen- 


52 


ART-HINTS. 


sualism.  Their  academies  were  schools  for  the  most 
complete  development  of  the  physical  and  intellectual 
man.  In  the  bloodless  strifes  and  mental  displays  of 
their  Olympic  games,  they  found  the  originals  of  their 
Yenuses,  Minervas,  Apollos,  and  all  those  wondrous 
forms  of  human  beauty  with  which  they  have  de¬ 
lighted  the  world.  But  there  is  no  saving  grace  in 
them.  They  fully  perform  their  mission  to  the  intel¬ 
lect  and  merely  human  emotion,  but  the  teaching 
to  the  soul  is  no  portion  of  their  inspiration.  The 
nation  which  merely ‘revives  these  forms,  will  revive 
their  dangers  with  them. 

Rome  imported  most  of  her  Art  from  Greece. 
Transplanted  to  an  ungenial  mental  soil  it  wTas  but 
half  appreciated,  and  the  evil  in  its  nature  developed 
itself  with  twofold  force.  Art  in  Rome  is  not  to  he 
seen  in  its  statues  and  ideas  borrowed  from  Greece, 
hut  in  that  noble  architecture  so  peculiarly  its  own. 
Those  who  would  realise  the  aspirations  of  the  mistress 
of  the  Old  World,  will  find  it  in  the  stupendous 
remains  of  her  baths,  theatres,  her  Coliseum,  palaces, 
aqueducts  and  villas,  all  stamping  her  civilization  as 
exclusively  of  sense.  Her  Art  was  one  of  gigantic 
display  and  enervating  luxury ;  a  mingling  of  pride 
and  vanity,  giving  vent  to  the  fouler  passions  in  gla¬ 
diatorial  shows,  and  abundant  means  of  gratuitous 
enjoyment  of  sensual  pleasures.  A  worse  moral 
training  for  its  subject  no  despotic  government  ever 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  33 

established  than  that  of  imperial  Rome.  The  animal 
was  the  solely  recognised  being.  To  keep  him  quiet 
he  was  gratuitously  fed ;  to  amuse  him  and  develop 
his  baser  passions,  he  was  led  to  baths  lined  with  pre¬ 
cious  marbles  and  decorated  with  sensuous  art ;  thence 
he  had  but  to  take  his  seat  in  the  amphitheatre,  and 
glutting  his  eyes  with  the  dying  agonies  of  fellow- 
beings,  or  the  terrible  struggles  of  ferocious  beasts, 
complete  his  daily  round  of  enjoyment  and  instruction. 
Such  was  the  Roman,  and  of  such  a  character  his  Art, 
the  basest  in  its  motives  the  world  has  ever  exhibited, 
and  the  most  ruinous  in  its  downfall. 

There  were,  it  is  true,  individuals  by  whom  Art  was 
directed  to  nobler  efforts.  But  this  was  merely  the 
unappreciated  taste  of  a  cultivated  few,  without  power 
to  overcome  the  grosser  national  elements.  Even  in 
the  minor  decorations  of  their  palaces,  we  perceive  no 
higher  effort  than  a  mere  play  of  fancy  resulting  in 
grotesques,  often  running  into  the  obscene,  and  which 
in  their  best  execution  display  rather  intellectual 
wantonness  than  wholesome  feeling. 

Christian  Art,  w’hich  arose  on  the  ruin  of  pagan 
civilization,  w?as  more  a  rude  expression  or  type  of 
faith  than  the  production  of  cultivation.  Its  general 
character,  when  not  wholly  typical,  was  an  appeal  to 
the  coarser  sympathies  of  human  nature.  It  sought 
to  arouse  feeling  by  vividly  representing  fleshy  agonies  ; 

blood,  wounds,  torture,  in  all  their  literal  ghastliness, 

C* 


34 


ART-HINTS. 


were  its  chief  elements.  Beauty,  whether  of  form  or 
sentiment,  they  eschewed,  not  only  from  artistic 
inability,  but  from  religious  principle.  Their  “  Man 
of  sorrow”  was  an  ugly,  beggarly  specimen  of  hu¬ 
manity,  disrobed  not  only  of  all  divinity,  but  of  all 
earthly  grace,  in  order  to  impress  the  sense  of  bis 
humiliation  the  more  deeply  upon  the  people.  Virgins 
and  saints  were  alike  coarse  and  monstrous.  Minds 
like  St.  Gregory’s  of  Nyssa,  and  St.  John  Chrysostom’s, 
sought  to  give  a  more  elevated  turn  to  Art,  by  vindi¬ 
cating  the  personal  beauty  of  Christ,  but  with  how 
little  success  the  Byzantine  school  for  nearly  a  thou¬ 
sand  years  demonstrates.  It  is  the  more  singular, 
that  the  descendants  of  those  Greeks  who  literally 
adored  the  beautiful  in  the  days  of  paganism,  should 
in  their  conversion  to  Christianity  make  it  a  matter  of 
conscience  to  worship  only  the  ugly  and  repulsive. 
The  prominent  characteristic  of  Art,  as  exhibited  in 
sculpture  and  painting  during  this  interval,  is  extreme 
rudeness  and  want  of  artistic  knowledge.  It  is  the 
labor  of  coarse  hands  and  coarse  minds  incapable  of 
appreciating  or  rendering  the  spirit  of  the  faith  they 
had  adopted.  Their  conceptions  were  limited  to 
external  manifestations.  Yet  there  is  a  solemn 
grandeur  in  some  of  their  mosaics,  not  to  speak  of  the 
rude  dignity  of  their  religious  architecture,  which 
impresses  even  modern  beholders  with  awe  and  respect 
But  the  exceptions  are  indeed  rare  in  which  their 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  35 

figures,  when  not  disgusting  from  overwrought  phy 
sical  suffering  or  misery,  are  not  so  disproportioned  ii 
outline,  so  coarse  in  color,  and  so  void  in  expression, 
as  to  put  all  Art  to  the  blush.  Art,  therefore,  during 
this  long  epoch  was  rude  and  unattractive  ;  the  work 
of  feebleness  and  ignorance  ;  its  sole  life  being  in  the 
attempt,  through  its  coarsest  execution,  to  familiarize 
the  popular  mind  with  religious  truths  as  little 
understood  in  spirit  as  they  were  unintelligible  in 
expression. 

All  that  is  noble  in  modern  Art  took  its  origin 
in  the  thirteenth  century.  Mind  awoke  from  its 
paralysis,  and  step  by  step  rapidly  advanced  in 
the  development  of  its  theoretic  faculties.  Know¬ 
ledge  kept  pace  with  idea.  Religion  and  patriotism 
stamped  their  image  on  progress.  Art,  as  I  have 
before  remarked,  assumed  the  position  of  teacher ; 
the  people  clapped  their  hands  with  joy  as  the  new 
light  broke  in  upon  them.  The  mental  movement 
throughout  Europe  was  universal  and  sincere.  It  was 
a  popular  movement,  and  taking  root  in  the  hearts  of 
the  people,  grew  and  flourished  as  Art  as  a  whole  had 
never  done  before,  and  has  never  since.  It  covered 
Europe  with  religious  edifices,  of  a  character  at  once 
the  reverence  and  despair  of  all  aftertime.  To  huild 
as  the  medievalists  built,  we  must  feel  as  they  felt. 
Every  stone  was  laid  in  sincerity.  Such  treasures  of 
mind,  coin,  and  time  as  they  possessed,  they  lavished 


36 


ART-HINTS. 


for  the  glory  of  God,  believing  that  inasmuch  as  they 
honoured  Him  they  honoured  themselves.  There  is  no 
thought  more  apparent  on  these  hoary  stone  records  of 
a  believing  generation,  than  the  sincerity  of  the  spirit 
which  led  to  their  erection.  Pride  of  architecture  and 
vanity  of  display  came  in  with  the  Rena issant  sen¬ 
sualism,  but  medisevalism  stands  in  history  the  solitary 
exponent  of  the  principle  of  labor  for  its  true  end — 
the  development  of  the  spirit.  Hence  its  greatness. 
I  do  not  mean  to  imply  that  it  perfected  Art.  Prac¬ 
tical  knowledge  was  often  wanting.  But  I  do  mean 
to  say  that  they  went  to  Art  as  little  children  willing 
to  be  taught,  that  she  did  teach  and  elevate  them,  and 
the  people  grew  and  flourished  in  spiritual  truth  until 
the  reign  of  tyrants  commenced,  and  sensualism  blasted 
the  fruit  before  it  fully  ripened.  True  it  is  that 
political  wisdom  was  imperfectly  understood,  and  civi¬ 
lization  in  its  most  useful  character  of  order  was  as 
yet  undeveloped.  Still  commerce  flourished,  free 
cities  multiplied,  science  spread,  and  all  would  have 
been  well  for  the  social  fabric,  had  the  people  under¬ 
stood  the  strength  of  union.  Tyranny  made  them  its 
servants  through  domestic  discord. 

Aside  from  the  social  question,  Art  in  their  hands 
was  unquestionably  lofty.  Artists  were  ennobled  in 
the  public  heart.  They  were  both  its  leaders  and  its 
servants;  and  it  should  be  remarked  that  they  exer¬ 
cised  their  genius  upon  subjects  almost  exclusively 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  37 

Christian,  or  patriotic,  as  they  understood  patriotism. 
Buffalmacco,  one  of  the  pupils  of  Giotto,  writes  :  “  We 
painters  occupy  ourselves  in  depicting  saints  and  holy 
personages  upon  walls  and  altars,  to  the  end  that 
man,  to  the  great  spite  of  devils,  should  be  led  to  virtue 
and  piety.” 

Domestic  ornament  was  wholly  of  a  religious  cha¬ 
racter.  The  excess  of  this  feeling  undoubtedly  con¬ 
tributed  to  the  spread  of  superstition,  and  was  cun¬ 
ningly  diverted  by  the  Roman  Church  to  selfish  ends. 
Men  sinned  in  those  days  as  now,  but  they  confessed 
their  sins.  They  believed  and  trembled.  The  hell 
of  Dante  had  its  reality  in  the  faith  of  the  people. 
The  deeper  we  investigate  this  period  of  human 
history,  the  more  reason  do  we  find  to  stamp  it  as  an 
heroic  age.  Devotion  was  its  animating  spirit.  It 
abounds  in  great  sacrifices,  chivalric  courtesy,  noble 
efforts,  high  aspirations,  grand  enterprises,  and  gigantic 
crimes.  It  is  the  age  not  only  of  Giotto,  Dante, 
Savonarola,  Luther,  Columbus,  and  Michael  Angelo, 
but  of  Caesar  Borgia  and  Henry  VIII.  ;  the  Inquisition 
and  Reformation  were  planted  side  by  side ;  Loyola 
and  Melancthon,  an  Isabella  mated  to  a  Ferdinand. 

To  acquaint  my  readers  with  the  lofty  spirit  which 
prompted  the  execution  of  great  public  works  of  this 
age,  I  quote  from  the  records  of  the  Florentine  re¬ 
public  the  order  to  Arnolfo  di  Lapo  to  make  a  design 
for  their  new  cathedral : — 


38 


ART-HINTS. 


“  Whereas  the  chief  aim  of  a  people  of  great  origin 
being  to  act  in  a  way  that,  from  its  outward  works, 
every  one  should  recognise  both  its  wise  and  magnani¬ 
mous  manner  of  proceeding,  we  order  Arnolfo,  chief 
architect  of  our  city,  to  make  a  model  or  design  for 
the  complete  rebuilding  of  Santa  Reparata  with  the 
greatest  possible  magnificence  that  the  human  mind  is 
capable  of  conceiving,  since  it  has  been  decreed  in 
council,  both  public  and  private,  by  the  most  able  men 
of  this  city,  that  nothing  should  be  undertaken  for  the 
community  which  did  not  correspond  entirely  to  the 
ideas  of  its  most  enlightened  citizens  united  together 
to  decide  on  such  subjects.” 

Contrast  this  with  the  contemptible  pride  and  foul 
fear  of  Louis  XIV. — fear  of  living  in  view  of  the 
sepulchre  of  his  race, — which  led  to  the  erection  of  the 
Palace  of  Versailles,  and  we  have  the  direct  measure 
of  the  difference  between  the  nobility  of  a  religious 
people,  whose  imaginations  are  exalted  by  Art,  and 
the  meanness  of  a  ruler  who  makes  Art  the  mere  in¬ 
strument  of  his  self-glory. 

The  relative  magnanimity  of  the  two  is  nowhere 
more  strongly  shown  than  in  the  disregard  of  expense 
actuating  each.  The  king  forced  a  powerful  and 
wealthy  nation  to  the  brink  of  ruin  to  gratify  his  self¬ 
ishness  ;  the  republic  of  Florence  contributed  their 
money  to  erect  religious  edifices  with  a  proud  alacrity, 
which  would  astonish  modern  economists.  In  1334 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  39 

they  commenced  building  the  present  campanile,  pass¬ 
ing  a  decree  (I  quote  from  Lord  Lindsay’s  “  Christian 
Art”)  that  it  should  be  built  “  so  as  to  exceed  in 
magnificence,  height,  and  excellence  of  workmanship 
whatever  in  that  kind  had  been  achieved  by  the  Greeks 
and  Romans  in  the  time  of  their  utmost  power  and 
greatness.  The  first  stone  was  laid,  accordingly,  with 
great  pomp  on  the  18th  July  following,  and  the  work 
prosecuted  with  vigor,  and  with  such  costliness  and 
utter  disregard  of  expense,  that  a  citizen  of  Yerona, 
looking  on,  exclaimed  that  the  republic  was  taxing  her 
strength  too  far  ;  that  the  united  resources  of  two  great 
monarchs  would  be  insufficient  to  •  complete  it  —  a 
criticism  which  the  signoria  resented  by  confining  him 
for  two  months  in  prison,  and  afterwards  conducting 
him  through  the  public  treasury,  to  teach  him  that  the 
Florentines  could  build  their  whole  city  of  marble,  and 
not  one  poor  steeple  only,  were  they  so  inclined.”1 

This  “  one  poor  steeple  ”  is  the  most  beautiful  speci¬ 
men  of  tower  architecture  the  world  has  to  show, 
costing  at  the  rate  of  about  three  hundred  dollars  per 
superficial  foot,  making  an  entire  expenditure  of  five 
millions  old  currency,  which,  by  taking  the  present 
value  of  wheat,  and  comparing  it  with  the  price  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  would  augment  its  cost  fivefold. 

In  this  age  Art  asserted  its  prerogative  over  rank. 
Charles  V.,  emperor  of  half  a  world,  waited  upon 

1  Page  248,  vol.  ii. 


40 


ART-HINTS. 


Titian,  while  Francis  I.  of  France  condescended  to 
plead  for  its  productions.  Even  the  haughty  Charles 
of  Anjou  visited  Cimabue  at  his  humble  house ;  and 
the  people  rushed  with  such  joy  to  see  his  famous 
picture  of  the  Madonna  and  Infant  Jesus,  which  to 
them  gave  token  of  new  promise  in  Art,  that  the 
quarter  in  which  he  resided  at  Florence  has  ever  since 
been  called  the  “Borgo  Allegro,”  Joyous  Quarter. 
The  population  took  the  picture  in  procession  to  the 
church  of  Santa  Maria  Novella,  in  which  it  now  is, 
with  music  and  exclamations  of  enthusiasm. 

Such  was  the  feeling  of  this  era  ;  too  keen  and  ex¬ 
citable  to  be  under  the  guidance  of  reason,  and  too 
partial,  with  too  slight  scientific  development  of  the 
knowledge  of  materials  and  mechanical  skill,  to  attain 
its  perfect  standard.  Its  most  valuable  point  is  to  be 
found  in  its  motive.  Yet  if  we  consider  the  Strasburg 
Cathedral,  the  Duomos  of  Florence,  Siena  and  Pisa? 
and  the  religious  architecture  of  Europe  generally, 
and  even  much  of  its  domestic,  the  bronzes  of  Ghiberti, 
the  purity  of  Angelico,  the  solemn  color  of  Titian, 
the  power  of  Michael  Angelo,  the  sincerity  of  an 
Albert  Durer,  and  the  ineffable  grace  of  Raphael — 
for  the  latter  four  were  born  of  this  era — we  can  come 
to  no  other  conclusion  than  that  though  Art  still 
lacked  much  of  its  entire  expression,  yet  as  a  whole 
it  had  attained  its  loftiest  position. 

To  trace  its  subsequent  decline  under  the  ignoble 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  41 

influences  of  sensualism  is  a  painful  task.  I  shall,  in 
the  succeeding  chapter,  examine  into  those  political 
causes  which  most  rapidly  hastened  its  downfall,  and 
follow  it  in  its  degradation,  as  seen  in  its  most  con¬ 
temptible  shapes  in  France,  until  in  the  orgies  of 
universal  license  and  revolutionary  anarchy  it  assumed 
the  features  of  a  demon. 


42 


ART-HINTS, 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ART  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  HISTORY — ITS  FALL. 

We  have  now  arrived  at  a  period  when  Art  assumed 
a  wholly  new  aspect.  This  epoch  dates  from  the  final 
triumph  of  the  Medici  family  at  Florence  over  the 
liberties  of  their  country,  and  their  accession  to  the 
papal  see  in  the  early  part  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
Entire  Italy,  and  consequently  the  civilized  world,  felt 
their  influence.  Venice  marched  with  almost  equal 
rapidity  in  the  path  of  decline,  and  from  similar  causes. 
True,  there  are  names,  as  there  are  partial  exceptions 
in  the  action  of  all  broad  principles,  which  may  be 
spared  the  general  condemnation.  But  these  excep¬ 
tions  are,  as  in  the  seeming  contradiction  of  natural 
laws,  the  action  or  modifications  of  principles  equally 
broad ;  while  their  operation,  being  confined  to  indi¬ 
vidual  minds,  was  powerless  to  check  the  degradation, 
although  they  asserted  the  nobility  of  Art.  As  I  am 
now  treating  Art  in  its  broad  historical  relations  with 
humanity,  I  confine  myself  to  the  general  effect,  leav- 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  43 

ing  my  readers  to  make  such  distinctions  as  their 
knowledge  shall  suggest  from  those  names  whose 
artistic  fame  is  settled  upon  an  established  basis.  But 
it  will  be  difficult  for  them  to  find  a  single  mind  during 
this  era,  which,  even  if  its  spirit  remained  uncontami¬ 
nated,  was  able  to  maintain  its  entire  independence. 
Michael  Angelo  fell  after  much  sullen  resistance ; 
Raphael  was  seduced  from  his  primitive  sincerity ; 
Leonardo  da  Vinci  wasted  his  genius  on  barren  scien¬ 
tific  and  mechanical  experiments ;  Titian  alone  may 
be  said  to  have  maintained  his  artistic  identity,  neither 
led  astray  by  rank,  nor  diverted  by  the  growing  falsi¬ 
ties  of  a  corrupt  age,  from  the  truth  that  burned  within 
him. 

The  great  distinction,  be  it  carefully  borne  in  mind, 
between  this  age  and  the  preceding,  was  the  centrali¬ 
zation  of  power  into  the  hands  of  princes.  Democratic 
communities  were  absorbed  into  kingdoms ;  free  cities 
became  provincial  towns ;  in  fine,  the  people  from 
citizens  became  subjects.  Whatever  of  civil  and  poli¬ 
tical  liberty  had  existed  in  Italy,  Spain,  and  France, 
especially  in  those  countries  in  which  Art  had  arisen 
and  thrived  in  the  bosom  of  the  people,  was  now  wholly 
extinguished.  The  cause  of  this  loss  of  liberty  was,  as 
I  have  before  remarked,  domestic  discord.  Art  cannot 
be  chargeable  with  turbulence  and  anarchy.  On  the 
contrary,  its  natural  tendency  is  towards  refinement 
and  harmony.  The  people,  in  the  culture  of  their 


44 


ART-HINTS. 


imagination,  had  neglected  the  study  of’  sound  prin¬ 
ciples  of  civil  polity.  Feeling  was  the  great  charac¬ 
teristic  of  those  times ;  it  gave  them  sincerity  in  all 
they  attempted :  consequently,  whether  in  war,  com¬ 
merce,  art,  or  religion,  to  whatever  end  the  people 
bent  their  energies,  they  wrought  with  soul-aroused 
vigor.  The  difficulty  of  the  equal  cultivation  of 
powers,  or,  in  other  words,  the  complete  and  harmo¬ 
nious  development  of  the  individual,  is  evident  to  any 
one  who  has  studied  his  own  nature.  It  is  still  more 
apparent  in  the  history  of  nations.  Mankind  are  prone 
to  extremes.  The  well-balanced  race  is  yet  to  be 
developed.  We  have  seen  that,  after  the  fall  of  the 
Roman  empire,  the  grossest  ignorance  spread  over  the 
world.  When  mind  in  Italy  awoke  from  its  apathy, 
its  first  impulse  was  feeling.  It  gloried  in  its  newly- 
discovered  powers;  it  abandoned  itself  to  their  guidance 
as  it  were  to  a  luxury,  and  sought  its  highest  good  in 
action  rather  than  reflection.  Its  chief  impetus  arose 
from  devotion.  Devotion,  we  know,  is  allied  to  love  ; 
and  from  love  to  sensualism  there  is  but  one  downward 
step.  Bigotry  on  the  one  hand  and  tyranny  on  the 
other  found  their  strongest  ally  in  the  abasement  of 
the  mind.  Among  the  southern  races  the  quickest 
route  to  this  was  through  their  material  passions. 
The  Roman  Church  effectually  extinguished  free¬ 
dom  of  thought,  closing  every  avenue  against  the 
development  of  reason  except  such  as  it  could  con- 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  45 

trol,  and  allowed  science  to  exist  only  as  its  ser¬ 
vant. 

Among  northern  nations  the  aroused  mental  ener¬ 
gies,  owing  to  causes  arising  from  climate  and  the 
habits  of  industry  which  a  rude  nature  engenders, 
took  a  different  direction.  Reason  was  more  powerful 
than  imagination.  It  sought  its  action  rather  in 
matter  or  science  than  in  Art.  Imagination  was 
indeed  vigorous,  but  manifested  itself  in  ruder  forms. 
Beauty  partook  of  a  sterner  character.  If  the  passions 
were  violent,  reason  also  was  active,  and  the  balance 
was  better  preserved  ;  consequently,  though  exposed  to 
similar  tyrannical  attempts,  the  northern  races,  from 
their  greater  constitutional  vigor  and  development  of 
reason,  have,  amid  trials  and  many  reverses,  made 
steady  advances  towards  mental  freedom.  It  will  he 
found  that  the  true  progress  of  a  nation  towards  per¬ 
manent  greatness  is  in  proportion  to  its  equal  cultiva¬ 
tion  of  reason  or  the  ideal  faculties  under  the  guidance 
of  sound  religious  freedom.  None  are  as  yet  more 
than  partially  developed.  Indeed  it  is  only  within  half 
a  century  that  the  elementary  principles  of  nature 

A 

begin  to  be  understood.  Knowledge  is  valuable  solely 
in  its  application.  All  that  has  yet  been  discovered  in 
science  is  but  an  incentive  to  further  exertions.  We 
begin  to  see  its  proper  uses.  So  with  Art.  All  that 
has  yet  been  done  is  but  suggestive  of  what  remains  to 
be  done.  The  northern  world  is  now  in  its  most 


46 


ART-HINTS. 


favorable  condition  for  the  development  of  Art,  for 
which  science  and  freedom  are  rapidly  preparing  the 
way.  With  the  Anglo-Saxon  and  German  races  it  is 
a  necessity,  to  counteract  their  leaning  towards  mate¬ 
rialism.  It  is  to  be  observed  that  the  extremes  of 
action  of  the  imagination  and  reasoning  faculties  have 
a  common  tendency  to  sensualism.  The  hope  of  the 
southern  races  lies  in  the  cultivation  of  their  reasoning 
faculties  and  the  control  of  their  imagination. 

My  topic  being  Art,  I  am  by  it  led  more  to  investi¬ 
gate  the  history  of  the  southern  than  the  northern 
races.  With  one,  it  was  Life ;  with  the  other,  Play. 
The  tyrants  that  arose  in  the  sixteenth  century,  per¬ 
ceiving  how  powerful  was  the  influence  of  imagination 
over  the  public  mind,  undertook  to  control  Art  to 
sinister  designs.  Their  own  existence  depended  upon 
the  destruction  of  individual  will  and  mental  vigor. 
There  is  no  surer  poison  for  this  purpose  than  sensual 
pleasure.  With  the  new  rulers  this  became  a  settled 
policy,  disguised  under  the  specious  pretence  of  en¬ 
couragement  of  Art.  Divorced  from  the  people,  Art 
lost  its  freedom  and  became  a  slave.  It  needed 
another  divorce  to  make  it  wholly  a  pliable  instru¬ 
ment.  This  was  found  in  the  Renaissance,  as  this  era 
is  falsely  called.  Art  was  made  to  deny  Christianity 
and  confess  Paganism.  All  its  new  forms  were  bor¬ 
rowed  or  corrupted  from  classical  examples.  Without 
the  purity  and  sincerity  which  the  knowledge  and  faith 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  47 

of  the  Greeks  and  Romans  gave  to  their  art,  complete 
in  itself  as  an  exposition  of  Paganism,  this  modern 
bastard  arose,  under  the  patronage  of  popes  and 
princes,  to  do  their  bidding  in  the  enslavement  of  the 
senses.  To  deny  that  it  possessed  some  beauty,  and, 
for  certain  building  purposes,  considerable  utility, 
would  be  to  do  it  injustice.  Its  beauty  will,  however, 
be  almost  invariably  found  to  be  allied  with  incon¬ 
gruity,  while  it  is  only  the  genius  of  the  greatest 
minds  that  can  redeem  it  from  positive  ugliness.  Cold 
in  color,  as  architecture  it  is  soulless  in  design. 
Overwhelmed  with  detail,  it  exhibits  the  odd  mixture 
of  Pagan  and  Christian  symbols,  ornament  without 
meaning,  and  parts  without  use.  As  generally  seen, 
the  Greeks  would  spurn  it,  the  Romans  despise  it,  and 
Christians  should  reject  it.  That  there  is  sufficient 
scope  in  its  materials  and  so-called  laws  to  turn  it  to 
practical  purposes  in  building  for  modern  civilization 
is  true.  It  has  led  to  many  social  reforms.  It  has 
given  wider  streets,  better  ventilation,  and  more  whole¬ 
some  apartments  ;  it  is  adapted  to  administer  to  our 
comfort;  and  all  the  good  that  can  come  out  of  it  in 
its  best  condition  is  in  those  ends,  while  its  loftiest 
intellectual  development  is  confined  to  pleasing  pro¬ 
portions  and  highly-finished  sculpture.  It  is  the  per¬ 
fection  and  play  of  mere  external  materialism.  In 
saying  this  we  have  said  all. 

The  use  that  popes  and  princes  made  of  Renaissant 


48 


ART-HINTS. 


Art  is  evident  in  the  present  state  of  Italy,  Spain,  and 
France.  They  diverted  it  into  its  most  sensuous 
forms.  Compare  the  spirit  of  the  Duonios  of  mediaeval 
Italy  and  the  Gothic  cathedrals  of  France  with  the 
basilica  of  St.  Peter’s  at  Pome,  and  test  the  difference 
on  not  merely  the  religious  but  the  unbelieving  mind. 
If  magnificence,  huge  proportions,  giant  detail,  and 
display  of  wealth  that  astonishes,  and  refinement  of 
execution  that  dazzles,  be  the  characteristics  of  a 
temple  of  the  Most  High,  then  is  St.  Peter’s  a  Christian 
church.  I  know  not  how  I  can  better  define  the  wide 
spiritual  gulf  between  these  two  types  of  buildings  than 
by  quoting  the  remark  of  an  educated  Italian  upon 
entering  St.  Peter’s  for  the  first  time :  “  What  a  glo¬ 
rious  ‘cafe’  this  would  make!”  He  was,  as  almost 
all  of  his  rank  and  position  are,  an  atheist,  or  perhaps  I 
should  say  that,  in  rejecting  the  falsities  of  Romanism, 
he  was  without  any  external  guide ;  but  he  never 
spoke  lightly  of  a  Gothic  church.  There  is  an  essence 
of  spiritual  life  in  its  deep  shadows,  delicate  traceries, 
heaven-turned  pinnacles,  and  solemn  combination  of 
sculpture  and  color,  that  gives  repose  to  the  heart. 
The  Renaissance  cast  this  all  out  as  ignorance.  Has 
knowledge  in  her  case  given  a  soul  to  science  ? 

When  priestcraft  and  power  ravished  Art  from  the 
people,  they  led  her  into  still  lower  depths  of  degrada¬ 
tion.  In  one  respect  we  can  look  with  charity  upon 
their  motives.  So  far  as  they  were  sincere  in  their 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  49 

aim  after  mechanical  excellence  and  the  perfection  of 
material,  their  progress  was  correct.  The  proper 
rendering  of  the  spiritual  idea  in  form  and  color 
requires  consummate  skill  and  the  nicest  selection 
of  matter.  But  they  mistook  their  road,  and  made 
those  points  which  are  of  secondary  importance  the 
object  of  Art.  Consequently  its  spirit  departed  as  it 
became  wholly  sensualized.  Not  content  with  this, 
instead  of  drawing  from  out  the  depths  of  their  own 
spiritual  natures  new  and  glorious  forms  of  thought  to 
vary  or  replace  the  sincere  but  homely  repetition  of 
sacred  subjects  with  which  the  religious  artists  had 
inundated  Italy,  producing  perhaps,  to  some  extent, 
satiety,  at  all  events  a  desire  for  a  more  perfect  if  not 
more  elevated  Art,  they  went  back  to  paganism  for 
their  inspiration.  The  idols  of  Greece  and  Rome,  the 
illustrations  of  their  mythology,  Pans  and  Satyrs, 
Venuses  and  Mercurys,  Jupiters  and  Junos,  the  loves 
of  Ledas,  the  amours  of  Mars,  and  the  debaucheries 
of  Bacchus,  were  revived  after  fifteen  hundred  years  of 
Christianity,  by  the  influence  of  the  apostolic  heads  of 
the  Christian  church.  These  subjects  were  all  proper 
to  paganism,  and  intelligible.  They  had  in  some  sense 
a  spiritual  relation  to  their  faith.  Knowing  nothing 
better,  it  was  praiseworthy  in  them  to  give  their 
imagination  play  in  its  highest  form.  But  all  this 
Art  is  the  product  of  paganism,  and  unworthy  of 
revival  by  a  Christian  nation  believing  in  progress. 

D 


50 


ART-HINTS. 


As  illustrations  of  the  past  they  are,  indeed,  valuable. 
They  open  to  us  the  heart  and  mind  of  our  race  two 
thousand  years  ago.  Two  thousand  years  hence  what 
conclusions  as  to  our  faith  would  the  then  inhabitants 
of  the  globe  come  to  if  they  judged  us  by  the  Renais- 
sant  decorations  of  our  palaces  and  churches  !  Has 
refined  Greek  Art  and  rude  Christian  Art,  classical- 
ism  and  medievalism,  exhausted  the  theoretical  faculty 
of  man  ?  There  is  no  principle  more  destructive  to 
artistic  progress  than  this  fatal  example  of  Renaissance 
in  leading  artists  to  lose  their  individuality  in  vain 
efforts  at  repetitions  of  the  past.  If  the  Greek  and 
Roman  minds  had  been  the  saving  truth  of  nations, 
they  would  have  lived  to  this  day.  They  had  died 
because  God  willed  it.  Men  who  seek  to  revive  pagan 
thoughts  will  reap  consuming  ashes.  Let  modernism 
think  out  its  own  thoughts.  In  that  way  we  best 
honor  God  and  cherish  the  immortality  of  our  souls. 

What  has  been  the  effect  of  this  revival  of  heathen¬ 
ism  in  Art?  With  the  exception  of  a  few  individual 
minds  who  were  honest  to  the  truths  they  possessed, 
its  progress  was  one  of  rapid  decadence  until  the  end 
of  the  last  century,  when  its  falsehood  and  imbecility 
became  complete.  It  is  unnecessary  to  mention  names ; 
search  Italy  through  after  the  death  of  Titian  and  the 
few  contemporaries  who  worked  in  his  spirit,  look  at 
her  churches,  her  palaces,  her  paintings,  statuary,  all 
that  constituted  Art,  and  you  will  discover  no  other 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  51 

result  than  false  principles  pursued  to  equally  false 
ends.  The  lust  of  power,  bigotry,  and  priesthood, 
vanity  of  artists,  the  selfishness  and  sensualism  of  all 
classes,  contributed  to  this  result,  so  that,  as  a  general 
rule,  the  traveller  need  not  give  his  time  to  the 
examination  of  any  Art  of  this  period,  unless  to  con¬ 
vince  himself  of  this  fact. 

Not  satisfied  with  heathen  plagiarism,  Renaissance 
invented  forms  of  its  own.  What  was  the  character 
of  its  originality  ?  There  is  a  spirit  of  the  grotesque 
in  all  nations  ;  it  is  the  play  of  the  imagination.  We 
see  it  solemn,  as  among  the  older  races  of  antiquity  ; 
full  of  grace  and  fancy  among  the  Greeks ;  wanton 
among  the  Romans ;  rude  but  vigorous  among  the 
Lombards ;  and  beautiful  in  its  ugliness,  something 
that  the  mind  can  repose  upon,  or,  at  the  worst,  a  pun 
in  form  or  color,  among  the  medievalists.  It  was 
reserved  for  the  Renaissant  artist  alone  to  make  it 
bestial.  Look  at  the  foul  stone-heads,  the  sculptural 
abortions  on  the  bridges  of  Venice,  and  of  this  archi¬ 
tecture  elsewhere,  and  tell  me  if  words  are  not  feeble 
to  express  their  utter  baseness. 

The  spirit  of  an  age  is  legible  upon  its  tombs.  In 
Egypt  we  read  the  desire  for  the  preservation  of  the 
material — a  species  of  vain  endeavor  to  defeat  the 
purposes  of  nature  as  if  hopeless  of  eternity.  In 
Greece  and  Rome,  doubt  without  fear ;  a  half- 
expressed  impulsive  belief  of  a  resurrection  joined 


52 


AliT-HINTS. 


with  a  philosophical  resignation  to  whatever  might 
arrive.  With  Christian  nations,  faith  in  its  meekest 
types,  simplicity  and  humility.  In  the  earlier  ages  the 
dead  repose  on  tombs  and  sarcophagi,  as  if  awaiting 
the  blast  of  the  trumpet  that  shall  call  them  forth 
from  out  of  their  graves.  All  is  simple  and  severe. 
Later  the  artist  places  them  in  their  tombs,  but  they 
either  kneel  in  hopeful  prayer  or  look  upward  in  con¬ 
fident.  expectation.  They  believe  not  in  their  rank  or 
their  own  worth,  but  humbly,  and  with  trust,  await  the 
second  coming  of  their  Sayiour.  But  what  have  we  in 
the  Renaissance  tombs?  They  are  monuments  to  the 
pride  of  man ;  buildings — architecture,  if  you  will — 
from  which  the  dead  look  down  scornfully  or  regret¬ 
fully  upon  the  earth  on  which  they  gathered  their 
harvest  of  shortlived  power.  We  have  no  symbolical 
virtues  here ;  but  real,  colossal,  stone  virtues,  as  cold 
and  impassible  as  the  fleshly  hearts  they  so  lyingly  repre¬ 
sent.  Emblems  of  state  and  rank  are  piled  in  theatrical 
confusion  over  these  monuments.  All  that  is  fleeting 
or  false  on  earth  is  painfully  garnered  into  the  sepul¬ 
chre.  Its  moral  is  one  wholly  of  flesh.  You  may  as 
well  seek  sweetness  in  the  apple  of  Sodom  as  the  tokens 
of  a  spiritual  faith  in  the  builders  of  Renaissance 
tombs.  Where  feeling  is  attempted  it  is  lost  amid  the 
trickery  of  low  Art. 

If  further  evidence  of  the  base  character  of  the 
spirit  of  Art  be  sought  in  this  era,  it  can  be  found  in 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  53 

the  ceiling  decorations  of  the  corridors  of  the  Ufizzi 
Gallery  at  Florence.  Amid  the  profusion  of  petty, 
complicated,  and  incongruous  grotesques,  we  find 
nothing  on  which  the  eye  rests  with  pleasure,  but  much 
from  which  it  turns  in  disgust.  Some  of  the  most 
prominent  designs  are  wholly  of  an  obscene  character, 
borrowed  in  idea  from  the  lowest  specimens  of  this 
class  of  paintings  to  be  found  in  Pompeii  and  Hercu¬ 
laneum.  To  show  the  full  extent  of  the  abasement  of 
oil  painting  in  all  that  constitutes  excellence  in  art,  I 
have  but  to  refer  to  the  most  celebrated  specimen  of 
one  of  the  masters  of  this  time.  In  calling  my  reader’s 
attention  to  the  large  picture  of  “  Christ’s  descent  into 
Limbo,”  by  Bronzino,  in  the  Florentine  gallery,  I  can 
do  nothing  more  in  confirming  his  abhorrence  of  the 
falsities  into  which  sensualism  had  led  Art  under  the 
rule  of  the  Medici.  Not  even  the  most  solemn  subject 
conceivable  was  now  capable  of  elevating  the  imagina¬ 
tion.  Sculpture,  being  confined  to  form,  was  on  a 
somewhat  securer  pedestal ;  but  its  decline  is  painfully 
apparent  in  the  Neptune  of  Ammananto,  and  the  Cacus 
of  Bandinelli,  in  front  of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio ;  but 
still  more  in  the  fact  that  the  favoritism  of  rulers 
should  have  rejected  the  spirited  and  noble  model 
prepared  by  Benvenuto  Cellini  to  make  place  for  the 
tasteless  monster  of  the  first-named  artist,  which  now 
does  duty  as  a  fountain.  It  will  be  found  that  Art 
during  this  trying  period  maintained  excellence  only  in 


54 


ART-HINTS. 


the  degree  that  it  preserved  its  independence.  The 
patronage  of  princes  was  to  it  the  breath  of  the 
Simoom. 

Without,  however,  going  further  into  detail,  it  is 
easy  for  the  inquirer  to  trace  the  contemporaneous 
decline  of  Art  and  morals  in  the  productions  and 
annals  of  the  sixteenth  and  succeeding  centuries. 
Occasional  lights  shone  through  the  general  gloom, 
but  the  whole  character  of  Art  had  become  material. 
It  was  the  enslavement  of  the  noblest  faculties  of  man 
to  the  administration  of  his  selfishness  and  luxury.  I 
cannot  too  strongly  impress  upon  my  readers  that  this 
was  owing  to  the  combined  tyranny  of  priestcraft  and 
princes.  The  contamination  spread  to  France.  It 
was  a  portion  of  the  marriage  dower  of  the  queens  of 
the  Medician  race  not  provided  for  in  written  treaties, 
but  it  left  its  mischievous  effects  long  after  their  trea¬ 
sures  had  been  squandered. 

Francis  I.  loved  Art  as  royalty  ever  loves  it,  as  the 
instrument  to  promote  the  glory  of  his  reign.  He 
courted  its  embrace  in  a  princely  manner,  and,  as  far 
as  a  despotic  sovereign  can  be,  was  sincere  in  wel¬ 
coming  it  into  his  kingdom.  He  could  not  personally 
create  taste  or  diffuse  knowledge,  but  he  could  make 
Art  the  fashion.  Like  his  contemporary,  Charles  Y.  of 
Spain,  he  protected  artists,  and  liberally  paid  for  their 
works,  leaving  them  freedom  of  choice  in  their  labors. 
The  result  was  that  France  came  into  the  possession  of 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  55 

some  noble  works,  isolated  specimens  of  Art,  without 
any  general  spread  of  correct  taste.  The  civil  and 
religious  wars  that  succeeded  the  reign  of  Francis  I. 
diverted  the  national  mind  towards  sterner  objects,  and 
it  was  not  until  the  accession  of  Louis  XIV.  that  the 
nation,  consolidated  and  peaceful  under  one  sovereign, 
had  an  opportunity  to  give  rein  to  its  aesthetic  desires. 

Unfortunately  for  Art,  freedom  was  not  only  wholly 
at  an  end,  but  as  complete  a  despot  as  ever  cursed  the 
human  race  was  on  the  throne.  Some  men,  like  Nero, 
are  tyrants  from  instinctive  impulses.  Some  debauch 
kingdoms,  like  Charles  II.  of  England,  from  weaknesses 
and  follies.  Others  are  stern  or  cruel  from  circum¬ 
stances  or  necessity,  like  Peter  the  Great  and  Crom¬ 
well  ;  but  it  was  reserved  for  Louis  XIV.  to  he  a 
despot  from  principle.  With  him  vices  or  foibles  were 
foisted  into  the  rank  of  virtues.  To  be  a  great  king 
he  degraded  himself  into  a  great  sham.  If  he  subdued 
his  passions  in  public  it  was  a  tribute,  not  to  the  dignity 
of  human  nature,  but  to  the  magnanimity  of  the  sove¬ 
reign.  His  entire  reign,  whether  as  libertine  or  bigot, 
was  a  libel  upon  humanity  ;  false  in  its  conception  and 
false  in  its  execution.  It  would  he  easy  to  trace  the 
after  miseries  of  France  to  the  corruptions  incident 
upon  such  a  systematic  perversion  of  human  truth  and 
dignity,  but  fortunately  we  have  only  to  do  with  its 
influence  upon  Art. 

To  such  a  ruler  the  Renaissance  was  a  miracle.  It 


66 


ART-HINTS. 


administered  equally  to  his  pride  of  state  and  sensual 
longings,  surrounding  him  with  luxury,  and  feeding  his 
vanity  through  a  thousand  deceptive  channels.  Under 
the  full  effect  of  its  seductive  influences  it  is  no  matter 
of  surprise  that  he  forgot  his  humanity  in  his  sove¬ 
reignty.  lie  lived  a  lie.  Consequently  what  was 
false  and  mean  was  congenial  food.  The  heathenism 
and  sensualism  of  the  Renaissance  rioted  without  con¬ 
trol  during  his  reign.  Do  you  doubt  this  assertion  ? 
Go  into  the  Renaissance  courts  of  the  Louvre,  and  the 
sculpture  galleries  of  the  past  century ;  count  the 
heathen  statues  and  classical  subjects  there  displayed  ; 
number  those  that  have  their  origin  in  Christian  faith ; 
where  you  will  find  one  of  the  latter,  you  will  find 
twenty  of  the  former.  But  this  is  not  all.  Examine 
their  treatment  and  penetrate  their  spirit.  When 
Christianity  is  attempted  it  ends  in  grimace.  When 
heathenism  is  copied  it  runs  into  sensualism.  It  be¬ 
comes  a  parody  upon  the  worst  spirit  of  Greek  and 
Roman  Art.  It  could  not  be  otherwise.  The  artists 
believed  not  in  these  things  ;  they  worked  from  fashion, 
and  not  from  inspiration.  Their  Art  is  essentially 
false,  because  the  social  fabric  was  all  false.  Its 
ruling  feeling  was  licentiousness.  Look  upon  the 
statues  of  royal  princesses.  To  which  is  the  eye 
mostly  directed  ?  To  a  face  void  of  elevated  expression, 
a  bosom  heaving  with  passion,  or  a  half-draped  leg 
pleading  its  voluptuousness  !  The  spirit  of  the  subject 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  57 

and  artist  is  alike  sensual.  Turn  to  the  classical 
department.  What  are  its  characteristics  ?  Harmony, 
repose,  the  quiet  beauty  of  Greek  Art,  in  which  lay  its 
real  strength  ?  On  the  contrary,  we  find  violent  mus¬ 
cular  action,  theatrical  positions,  form  without  soul, 
and  a  mechanical  finish  which  painfully  calls  for  admi¬ 
ration.  There  is  more  of  colossal  grandeur  in  the 
diminutive  bronze  models  of  Michael  Angelo  of  the 
statues  of  Night  and  Day,  Morning  and  Twilight, 
from  which  the  originals  were  made  for  the  Chapel  of 
the  Medici  at  Florence,  than  in  the  whole  range  of 
kindred  French  art ;  there  is  more  of  vigor  and  grace 
to  be  seen  in  Benvenuto  Cellini’s  bronze  Diana,  cast 
for  Francis  I.,  to  adorn  one  of  the  palace  gates  at 
Fontainbleau,  than  in  all  the  other  modern  classical 
subjects  of  the  gallery  ;  and  in  Buonarotti’s  unfinished 
block  of  the  Prisoner,  rough  hewn  as  it  is,  one  sees 
more  evidence  of  power  and  soul  than  in  the  produc¬ 
tions  of  all  the  French  sculptors  combined. 

Shall  we  be  more  fortunate  in  painting?  Let  us 
ascend  into  the  picture  galleries.  Here  we  find  in  Le 
Soeur,  Philippe  de  Campagne,  and  Nicholas  Poussin, 
no  lack  of  religious  topics.  I  ask  every  candid  mind  if 
they  obtain  from  the  first  any  emotion  beyond  a  the¬ 
atrical  display  of  glaring  colors,  so  crude  and  inhar¬ 
monious  as  utterly  to  destroy  any  religious  sentiment 
the  pictures  might  otherwise  claim,  and  in  the  others 

feebleness  of  design  and  mere  artistic  display.  The 

D* 


58 


ART-HINTS. 


artist  is  seen,  but  not  his  subject.  If  we  are  no 
more  fortunate  in  these  distinguished  names,  what  are 
we  to  expect  from  others  who  made  no  claims  to  any¬ 
thing  beyond  sensualism.  Examine  them  all  as  you 
would  study  the  nature  of  the  serpent,  but  beware  of 
their  poison.  Their  merits  of  mechanical  execution, 
as  far  as  such  may  exist,  do  not  come  within  my 
present  scope  of  criticism.  I  am  now  dealing  exclu¬ 
sively  with  their  spirit.  We  have  the  slaughters  of 
the  great  king ;  the  affected  pastoralism  and  refined 
amours  of  the  succeeding  reign ;  the  chase  and  death 
of  animals ;  in  fine,  everything  that  is  of  the  earth, 
earthy,  and  of  passion,  gross,  until  we  arrive  at  the 
revolutionary  period,  when  the  nation  in  its  madness, 
unable  to  distinguish  between  the  shame  of  their 
rulers  and  priests,  and  the  eternal  truths  of  Chris¬ 
tianity,  rejected  the  latter,  and  turned  back  for  guid¬ 
ance  to  paganism  without  its  intellectual  refinement 
and  poetical  mythology.  Here  we  see  the  heroism  of 
classical  ages  vamped  up  into  stage  effects  for  the 
promotion  of  modern  virtue.  The  age  had  no  higher 
standard  than  through  Art  to  lead  men  to  copy  the 
apocryphal  actions  of  human  beings  who  had  lain  in 
their  graves  for  thousands  of  years.  It  had  no  faith  in 
itself.  While  this  was  the  highest  aim  of  Art  it  was 
debased  to  its  lowermost  degradation  by  the  multipli¬ 
cation  of  obscenities  in  social  life  of  the  most  pernicious 
character.  It  had  now  fallen  to  the  condition  of  a 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  59 

pander  and  debauchee.  Its  virtues  being  all  mock, 
its  vice  real,  it  became  the  demon  of  anarchy.  Vilely 
had  art  been  abused,  fearfully  had  it  avenged  itself. 
The  violence  of  the  revolution  begot  tastes  still  more 
congenial  with  its  excesses.  French  love  for  violent 
action,  bizarre  design,  low  humor,  scenes  of  blood¬ 
shed,  physical  distortion,  and,  indeed,  for  all  which 
may  he  termed  unwholesome  in  art,  is  traceable  to 
this  period  and  its  antecedents  ;  a  mingling  of  aristo¬ 
cratic  debauchery,  democratic  brutality,  and  priestly 
hypocrisy,  expiating  their  common  error  at  the 
guillotine. 

The  boasted  refinements  and  courtesy  of  the  French 
nobility,  having  their  origin,  not  in  broad  principles  of 
humanity,  but  in  a  heartless  selfishness  which  sought  by 
manner  to  atone  for  want  of  sincerity,  gilded  their 
sensualism,  but  failed  to  redeem  it.  Miserably  it 
perished,  for  it  was  founded  on  sand.  Here  let  me 
repeat  that  the  atrocities  of  the  French  revolution  are 
no  more  attributable  to  true  refinement  than  the  sen¬ 
sualism  of  the  Medician  reigns  to  true  Art.  AVe  might 
as  well  charge  decay  to  enterprise  and  poverty  to  com¬ 
merce  because  nations  once  great  have  fallen.  They 
fell  not  from  pursuing  true  but  from  dallying  with 
false  principles.  There  is  a  Nemesis  in  human  affairs 
which  avenges  one  extreme  by  another.  Falsehood  is 
a  labyrinth  of  error,  truth  a  straight,  safe  road.  If 
men  abuse  Art,  she  stings  them ;  if  they  sincerely 


GO 


ART-HINTS. 


address  her,  she  rewards  them.  Wherever  great 
natural  reverses  have  succeeded  high  cultivation,  it 
may  be  certain  that  it  proceeded  not  from  cultivation, 
hut  its  abandonment. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  pursue  Art  in  its  historic  rela¬ 
tions  farther.  In  other  nations  its  etfects  are  purely 
secondary,  or  but  slightly  developed.  It  remains  hut 
to  recall  the  Art-motive  of  the  several  ages  we  have 
reviewed  and  trace  its  moral. 

In  Egypt  it  was  solemn  and  grand,  the  type  of 
absolute  power,  and  used  for  its  perpetuation.  In 
Greece  it  sprung  from  the  people,  and  was  directed  by 
the  intellect,  having  its  root  rather  in  human  phi¬ 
losophy  than  in  divine  spirituality.  Rome  used  it 
politically  and  to  sensual  ends.  Christianity  com¬ 
menced  purely,  but  diverted  it  to  blind  zeal ;  while 
modernism,  overpowered  by  its  worship  of  matter,  sunk 
it  into  sensualism.  Its  present  condition  is  no  higher 
than  ordinary  naturalism.  The  object  of  its  expres¬ 
sion  the  outer  life.  The  tendency  of  the  Art  of  to-day 
is  the  surface.  It  sees  things  in  detail  and  exalts 
material  accuracy  above  spiritual  truth.  My  object  is 
to  direct  the  mind  to  its  noblest  efforts,  and  to  show 
that  the  failures  of  past  experience  arising  from  im¬ 
perfect  or  misdirected  culture  are  no  argument  against 
its  divine  power  when  sought  in  sincerity  and  truth. 
The  world  is  now  in  the  most  favorable  condition  for 
the  reception  of  Art  Wedded  to  no  theories,  advanced 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  61 

in  science,  the  conquest  of  physical  nature  rapidly 
spreading,  to  welcome  Beauty  in  its  most  purifying 
shapes,  it  has  but  to  divest  itself  of  its  grosser  material 
element.  If  we  would  advance  in  refinement  and  the 
appreciation  of  the  measureless  powers  of  our  higher 
faculties,  it  is  a  necessity.  Nowhere  is  this  necessity 
more  paramount  for  the  progress  of  humanity  than  in 
America,  because  it  is  in  the  principles  of  civil  and 
political  freedom  that  the  hope  of  the  human  race  now 
exists.  If  these  fail,  although  Providence  may  permit 
the  growth  of  new  combinations  of  human  effort  and 
wisdom  to  solve  the  problem  of  a  rational  advance 
towards  the  fulfilment  of  the  perfect  destiny  of  man¬ 
kind,  yet  freedom  would  recover  its  present  con¬ 
dition  only  through  great  sorrow  and  trial.  It  is, 
then,  for  America  to  vindicate  the  truths  which  have 
thus  far  been  the  enigma  of  human  progress. 


62 


ART-HINTS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ART  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  MATTER  AND  SPIRIT. 

I  come  now  to  consider  Art  internally,  or  in  its  relation 
to  Matter  and  Spirit.  We  have  seen  that  which  we 
term  Art  is  not  the  theoretic  idea  itself,  but  simply 
the  medium  by  which  the  idea  is  made  cognizant  to 
our  external  senses.  Therefore  Art  performs  the 
same  office  for  the  mind  that  speech  does  for  the  ear. 
It  is  a  variety  of  language,  sometimes  requiring  sound, 
as  in  music,  for  its  alphabet ;  form,  as  in  sculpture ; 
and  form  and  color  combined,  as  in  painting.  The 
proper  appreciation  of  its  thought  is  in  the  ratio  of 
mental  cultivation.  Its  external  manifestations  are 
recognizable  alike  by  savage  and  civilized  man,  but 
for  the  full  interpretation  of  its  lofty  mysteries  the 
entire  fealty  of  intellect  and  spirit  is  required.  A  child 
that  runs  may  indeed  read  its  speech,  for  it  is  both 
simple  and  profound,  as  liberal  as  it  is  exhaustless. 
The  more  diligently  it  is  sought  the  more  it  rewards, 
so  that  while  the  deepest  study  cannot  fathom  its 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  63 

capacities,  it  despises  not  the  feeblest  intellect,  but 
freely  spreads  a  feast  for  all. 

What,  then,  is  Art,  which  so  affects  the  destinies  of 
nations  and  the  happiness  of  the  individual  ?  Without 
comprehending  its  entire  field  of  action  we  cannot 
properly  estimate  its  importance. 

Art  may  be  said  to  be  almost  as  limitless  in  variety 
as  Nature  herself,  for  her  province  is  to  render  all  that 
nature  provides  for  our  instruction  and  gratification  ;  to 
repeat,  as  it  were,  her  actions,  to  reflect  her  likeness, 
to  catch  the  fleeting  sentiment,  to  perpetuate  the  noble 
thought,  and  express  the  lofty  passion ;  in  short,  Art 
is  the  employment  provided  by  God  for  the  complete 
expansion  of  human  faculties.  It  is  the  sole  labor 
exempted  from  the  primeval  curse,  for  all  other  labor 
having  direct  reference  to  material  want  carries  with 
it  the  feebleness  and  deadening  influence  of  things  of 
sense  ;  while  Art,  directed  to  the  interpretation  of  the 
character  of  God,  as  exhibited  in  his  universe,  borrows 
of  Divinity  a  portion  of  its  spirit  to  refresh  the  heart  of 
sorrowing  man. 

Superficial  knowledge  will  not  unveil  its  store  of 
enjoyment  or  mere  tasting  disclose  its  refined  flavors. 
It  must  be  approached  reverently,  studied  intently, 
and  pursued  earnestly.  For  such  disciples  it  has  no 
satiety,  but  leads  them  onward  and  upward,  nearer 
and  nearer  to  the  source  of  Beauty. 

Beauty  is  twofold  :  the  external,  by  which  God 


64 


ART-HINTS. 


delights  our  senses,  and  the  internal,  by  which  He 
elevates  our  souls. 

Art  is  perfect  when  it  combines  both  in  their  highest 
forms.  That  which  cannot  be  comprehended  under 
either  moral  or  natural  Beauty  is  out  of  the  province 
of  Art  in  its  nobler  meaning.  It  has  no  business  with 
the  crimes,  diseases,  and  defects  of  nature ;  the  depar¬ 
tures  from  and  consequences  of  violations  of  natural 
laws :  nothing  that  pains  the  sympathies,  debases  the 
passions,  or  corrupts  the  intellect.  All  this  is  foreign 
to  Beauty,  and  consequently  to  true  Art ;  but  it  is  its 
duty  to  draw  lessons  of  moral  import  from  out  the 
history  of  man,  whether  stained  by  sin  or  ennobled  by 
virtue ;  to  show  us  both  “  the  still  small  voice  ”  and 
the  thunders  of  Sinai ;  the  sublimity  and  harmony  of 
Creation,  and  the  beauty  of  the  moral  law  by  which 
our  world  is  governed,  with  its  attendant  rewards  and 
punishments  ;  all  this  is  its  legitimate  inspiration,  for 
it  tends  to  exalt  us,  inasmuch  as  it  brings  us  nigher 
Him. 

I  therefore  include  in  the  term  Beauty  not  only  the 
grace  of  form  and  color  common  in  more  or  less 
degree  to  almost  every  created  object,  but  all  things, 
however  repulsive  at  first  glance  to  the  natural  eye, 
from  their  apparent  ugliness,  which  properly  fulfil  the 
objects  of  their  creation.  The  serpent,  hippopotamus, 
the  zoophyte,  and  even  those  frightful  monsters  of  the 
ocean  which  at  rare  intervals  come  to  the  surface,  as  if 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  65 

to  demonstrate  to  man  the  incompleteness  of  his  know¬ 
ledge  of  the  variety  and  capacity  of  Nature,  all  form 
a  link  in  its  scale  of  universal  harmony ;  each  has  a 
law  to  fulfil,  and  it  is  rather  from  its  perfect  adaptation 
to  its  purpose  of  existence,  than  to  its  outward  shape 
and  hue,  that  we  establish  its  claim  to  Beauty.  Yet 
even  in  the  ugliest  specimens  of  the  animated  creation 
there  are  lines,  or  spots  of  color,  or  individual  fea¬ 
tures,  that  may  legitimately  claim  admiration. 

The  highest  development  of  physical  beauty  is  per¬ 
haps  as  rare  as  its  opposite  extreme,  ugliness.  Nature 
is  pitched  upon  neither  key.  Examples  of  each  are 
given  to  assert  its  power  and  extort  our  wonder. 
Nothing  in  the  joyful  exercise  of  its  vital  functions, 
however  much  the  unaccustomed  eye  may  at  first 
shrink  from  its  contemplation,  should  repel  us  from  its 
study ;  for  we  shall  find  the  deeper  we  penetrate  the 
secrets  of  Nature  that  she  works  upon  broad  principles, 
the  object  of  which  is  to  develop  universal  good. 
Truth,  which  comprises  not  only  every  fact  of  the 
healthful  operations  of  nature,  as  well  as  every  virtue, 
is  the  complete  fulfilment  of  Beauty.  Falsehood, 
which  equally  includes  every  moral  sin  and  every 
infraction  of  physical  law',  is  the  destruction  of  Beauty. 
Hence  Art — its  mission  being  to  teach  as  well  as  to 
please — should  seek  Beauty  as  its  exclusive  inspi¬ 
ration,  and  avoid  Falsehood  as  it  would  a  pesti¬ 
lence.  In  proportion  as  it  deviates  from  this  rule 


GO 


ART-HINTS. 


it  becomes  unwholesome.  It  is  no  longer  Art,  but 
Artifice. 

I  shall  therefore  consider  every  artistic  work,  how¬ 
ever  fine  in  execution,  which  violates  the  above  law,  as 
Artifice,  and  to  be  classed  among  vices  and  diseases, 
which,  though  incident  to  humanity,  we  are  bid  to 
make  war  upon  with  our  whole  mind  and  strength. 
The  sooner  they  are  destroyed  the  better.  The  only 
sure  mode  of  extermination  is  so  to  guide  the  Taste 
that  it  will  intuitively  receive  the  True  and  reject  the 
False. 

True  Art  has  two  legitimate  divisions,  high  Art  and 
common  Art.  The  former  includes  all  work  which 
renders  the  spirit ;  which  appeals  for  its  interpretation 
to  the  soul.  The  latter  comprises  merely  the  faithful 
representation  of  natural  objects.  Genius  guides  the 
first ;  for  the  second,  industry  and'  clever  imitation  are 
sufficient. 

The  rules  of  Art  are  absolute.  They  are  moral 
laws  implanted  by  God  in  the  heart  of  Nature,  and 
are  independent  of  human  frailty  or  invention. 
Absolute  they  must  be,  because  they  are  fixed  in 
harmony ;  in  fact,  they  are  the  harmony  of  creation. 
It  is  for  man  to  discover  and  apply  them.  He  may 
depart  from,  but  he  cannot  change  them.  He  may 
outlaw  their  truths,  cramp  or  distort  their  genius,  and 
pervert  their  objects,  but  their  Divine  power  is  beyond 
fraud  or  violence.  They  are  superior  to  circumstance 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING  67 

and  human  mutations,  for  they  are  Truth  itself. 
Art  is,  indeed,  often  perverted,  because  man,  from 
the  excessive  cultivation  of  his  sensual  nature,  seeks 
the  low  and  feeble.  But  whenever  its  professors  try 
to  accommodate  it  to  fashion,  to  follow  and  not  lead 
the  spirit  of  the  age,  to  sacrifice  its  truths  to  the 
desires  of  a  flesh-loving  world,  the  selfish  purposes  of 
priestcraft  or  vainglory  of  rulers,  and  thus  immerse 
Beauty  in  the  slough  of  vulgar  deceit,  then  it  must  be 
known  for  what  it  really  is — Artifice. 

Beauty,  then,  comprising  as  it  does  the  noblest 
truths,  is  that  symbol  of  the  Divine  mind  which  most 
tends  to  the  elevation  and  enjoyment  of  man.  It  is 
the  spiritual  food  given  for  his  soul-sustenance  here, 
drawing  him  gently  onward  through  the  bonds  of  love 
to  the  study  of  the  infinite,  and  thus  inspire  him  with 
desire  to  arrive  at  its  perfect  fulfilment  in  the  regions 
of  celestial  bliss. 

The  associations  of  Beauty  are  only  those  of  virtue 
and  life ;  while  its  converse,  Falsehood,  finds  com¬ 
panionship  solely  with  sin  and  death.  Its  mission  is 
to  soften  the  heart  of  man.  By  it  the  savage  is 
prompted  to  his  first  step  towards  refinement. 
Among  civilized  races,  it  requires  but  to  be  exhibited 
by  Art,  in  the  full  strength  of  its  moral  loveliness,  to 
purify  the  intellect  from  the  dross  of  worldly  aspira¬ 
tion,  and  to  stimulate  its  faculties  to  the  full  ex¬ 
pansion  of  their  powers.  Without  the  perfect  union  of 


08 


ART-HINTS. 


Art  with  moral  as  well  as  physical  Beauty,  there  is 
danger  of  its  becoming  the  mere  instrument  of  mental 
dissipation  among  the  cultivated  classes,  and  of  sensual 
excitement  among  the  vulgar;  so  that  we  must  not 
consider  Art  as  genuine  in  character,  or  as  true  to  its 
mission,  except  in  proportion  as  it  embodies  all  the 
truth  it  is  capable  of  expressing. 

Beauty  being  then  the  gift  of  Divinity,  there  is  no 
better  test  of  the  degree  in  which  we  are  made  in  the 
image  of  God  than  our  ability  to  perceive,  and  feel 
sympathy  with  Nature  in  all  her  manifestations  of  this 
principle  of  life  and  joy.  The  cultivation  of  those 
powers  which  best  expand  the  heart  to  its  reception 
becomes  the  chief  end  of  education.  Other  studies 
lead  mainly  to  practical  results,  more  or  less  affecting 
the  physical  well-being.  This  is  exclusively  directed 
towards  maturing  the  soul,  and  preparing  it  for  its 
eternal  felicity. 

Schiller  has  indeed  said,— though  I  believe  later  in 
life  he  found  cause  to  modify  his  assertion,  at  all 
events  his  own  life  is  its  refutal, — that,  strictly  speaking, 
the  appreciation  of  Beauty  has  no  direct  influence  upon 
the  moral  conduct ;  in  fact,  “  that  Beauty  actually 
affords  no  simple  result,  either  for  the  intellect  or  the 
will  ;  it  carries  out  no  single  design,  either  intellectual 
or  moral  ;  it  discovers  no  single  truth  to  help  us  to  per¬ 
form  a  single  duty  ;  and  is,  in  a  word,  equally  incapable 
of  establishing  the  character  or  enlightening  the  head.” 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  G9 

Most  strictly  educated  religious  people  hold  even  a 
harsher  doctrine  of  its  influence,  viewing  it  absolutely 
as  an  ally  of  sensuality,  dangerous  to  admit  into  the  con¬ 
fidence  of  the  soul  and  fatal  to  all  true  progress  in  piety. 

Those  who  believe  with  Schiller,  and  feel  with  the 
mere  Pietists,  will,  if  they  once  admit  the  definition  of 
Beauty  in  its  broad  moral  signification  as  above  given, 
see  the  falsity  of  their  doctrine,  and  perceive  the  extent 
of  their  loss  in  their  failure  to  welcome  with  open  hearts 
that  boundless  store  of  pure  enjoyment  which  God  has 
provided  for  man,  for  the  complete  development  of  his 
earthly  being  and  the  more  perfect  preparation  of  his 
soul  for  immortality.  The  one  holds  exclusively  to 
the  idea  that  virtue  is  to  be  practised  simply  because 
it  is  a  law  of  our  spiritual  being,  without  reference  to 
other  motive  than  obedience.  The  other  denying 
themselves  ail  rational  enjoyment  of  Beauty  here, 
as  partaking  of  the  sensual,  look  with  eager  eyes  to¬ 
wards  a  heaven  which  promises  them  full  compensation 
for  their  voluntary  abstinence  on  earth. 

It  is  true  that  we  should  act  from  an  inward  convic¬ 
tion  of  the  law  of  virtue  without  regard  to  reward  ; 
indeed,  in  defiance  of  all  resistance  of  sense  or  selfish 
fear.  It  is  equally  true  that  we  should  avoid  all  occu¬ 
pations  or  allurements  which  divert  us  from  the  great 
object  of  man’s  earthly  existence,  his  fit  entrance  into 
an  eternal  sphere.  But  the  pervading  spirit  of  God’s 
creation  is  harmony.  He  nowhere  requires  us  to  act 


70 


ART-HINTS. 


from  barren  motive,  or  to  avoid  that  Beauty  for  the 
enjoyment  of  which  He  bestows  both  the  impulse  and 
the  means  of  gratification.  The  sole  requisition  of 
life  is  not  abstinence,  but  to  keep  the  heart  undefiled. 
If  the  contemplation  of  God’s  natural  creation,  or  its 
ideal  image  in  art,  renders  the  heart  of  any  one  impure 
and  less  capable  of  religious  duty,  then  he  is  right  in 
avoiding  what  to  him  is  a  snare ;  but  I  believe  it  will 
be  found  that  the  capacity  for  the  love  of  the  Author 
of  all  things  is  increased  just  in  that  degree  that  we 
enter  into  the  spirit  of  His  work.  He  has  established 
everlasting  laws  of  right  and  wrong  for  our  physical 
and  moral  guidance,  but  with  each  of  them,  to  its 
remotest  bearing,  there  is  connected  a  system  of  rewards 
and  punishments,  equally  as  immutable  and  intended 
to  arouse  within  us  emotion ;  to  bestow  motives  for 
exertion  or  self-denial — in  short,  to  make  us  human 
creatures,  capable  of  love,  fear,  hope,  and  joy.  Other¬ 
wise  we  are  either  mere  machines,  or  we  wantonly 
despise  His  gifts. 

Although  the  mere  contemplation  of  external  Beauty 
cannot  have  any  direct  influence  upon  the  moral  conduct, 
except  so  far  as  it  softens  the  feelings,  and  prepares  them 
by  its  harmonizing  influences  for  the  reception  of  its 
spiritual  truth, — and  indeed,  with  the  material  man,  it 
frequently  operates  merely  as  an  incentive  to  sensual  or 
covetous  desire, — yet  there  is  an  indirect  influence  which 
has  an  important  bearing  upon  our  religious  welfare. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  71 

This  arises  from  the  inner  or  typical  sense,  that  is,  the 
soul  of  all  created  matter  not  endowed  with  reason. 
There  is  not  a  plant  that  blossoms,  a  gem  that  sparkles, 
or  a  sea-shel'l  that  glistens  on  the  shore,  that  has  not  a 
meaning  beyond  its  external  loveliness,  consecrated  in 
the  heart  of  man  through  all  time.  Earth  from  its 
deepest  valleys  and  loftiest  mountain-tops,  over  its 
wide  plains  and  down  to  the  lowermost  depths  of  its 
ocean-beds,  through  its  broad  masses  of  light  and 
shadow,  its  atmospherical  curtain  with  its  silent  beauty 
or  its  notes  of  thunder,  the  loud  wind  and  the  gentle 
zephyr,  by  the  music  of  its  birds  and  the  varied  hum 
of  its  insect  creation,  by  its  summer  mantle  of  vegeta¬ 
tion  and  its  winter  robe  of  snow,  by  all  that  God  has 
created,  speaks  intelligibly  to  man  and  bids  him  join 
in  their  glad  anthem.  Can  he  listen  unmoved  to  these 
voices,  and,  alone  of  God’s  creation,  manifest  not  the 
joy  of  existence  in  giving  free  rein  to  all  his  heavenly-in¬ 
spired  impulses  ?  Must  God  always  stoop  to  argue  with 
man,  face  to  face,  because  scepticism  shuts  his  eyes  to 
visible  tokens  of  Divine  wisdom  ?  Is  his  reason  the 
sole  medium  through  which  truth  can  enter  his  mind  ? 
For  one,  I  do  not  believe  in  this  hardness  of  the  human 
heart.  It  may  sin  from  misdirection  or  from  ignorance, 
but  once  open  its  eyes  to  the  moral  beauty  of  the  tiniest 
plant  that  grows,  let  it  walk  the  earth  as  Christ  walked, 
in  the  open  air,  and  it  will  read  lessons  in  stones  and 
gather  knowledge  from  herbs. 


72 


ART-HINTS. 


Every  pure  and  sincere  heart  loves  Nature.  There 
is  not  a  line  of  external  beauty  or  mass  of  natural 
color,  which  has  not  in  it  evidence  of  a  power  so 
beyond  all  human  ability,  as  to  involuntarily  lead  the 
simplest  intellect  to  inquire  after  the  Great  Cause.  The 
most  thoroughly  religious  mind  I  ever  knew,  was  the 
most  alive  to  the  beauty  of  Nature,  even  in  its  humblest 
manifestations.  It  was,  to  her,  spiritual  meat  and 
drink.  Art,  so  far  as  she  knew  it,  was  welcomed  as  it 
came  in  the  pure  image  of  Nature.  I  have  noticed  the 
same  tokens  of  feeling  for  Beauty  in  other  religious 
minds ;  therefore,  both  from  the  force  of  a  general 
law,  and  the  concurrent  testimony  of  individuals  whose 
sentiments  have  been  allowed  their  healthful  action,  I 
am  persuaded,  that  not  only  there  is  nothing  in  the 
study  of  Beauty  which  the  pious  mind  need  fear,  but 
much  from  which  it  can  derive  strength.  He  who 
can  best  interpret  Nature  and  make  its  thought  intel¬ 
ligible  to  the  God-loving  soul  is  the  greatest  artist. 
True,  Beauty  does  not,  like  the  telescope,  penetrate 
the  heavens  to  count  the  stars,  or,  like  the  microscope, 
number  the  animalculse  in  a  drop  of  water;  it  cannot 
search  out  with  the  anatomist’s  knife  how  we  are 
made,  or  expend  its  force  in  the  geologist’s  hammer  in 
prying  into  the  structure  of  the  earth.  It  does  not 
even  understand  chemistry,  neither  can  it  make  bread 
nor  churn  butter ;  there  is  no  raiment  for  our  bodies 
nor  shelter  for  weary  heads  in  its  essence ;  not  one 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  73 

single  element  by  'which  the  physical  man  is  made 
stronger  in  person  or  more  luxurious  in  his  habits,  ex¬ 
cept  so  far  as  its  pursuit  leads  him  to  fresh  air  and 
exercise.  It  is  not  a  watchman  to  prevent  burglaries, 
nor  a  judge  to  punish  crime.  Like  science  it  can 
never  become  the  slave  of  man,  for  it  is  not  a  thing  of 
his  creation.  Born  of  freedom,  nurtured  in  truth, 
emanating  from  the  will  of  God  himself,  it  is  the  one 
blessing  needful  to  reconcile  man  with  earth  and  keep 
heaven  in  his  view.  Strip  this  globe  of  her  glorious 
robe  of  colors,  we  need  not  disturb  her  forms,  and 
what  a  barren  world  would  be  presented  to  our  view  ! 
Where  would  be  the  repose  for  the  eye,  the  lighting 
up  of  Nature’s  smile,  her  majesty  and  her  beauty  ?  Is 
there  “no  intellectual  or  moral  design,”  no  aid  “to 
duty”  in  this  widespread  and  freely-bestowed  mag¬ 
nificence  ?  Has  it  all  been  created  as  a  blank  to  the 
moral  constitution  ;  a  mere  thing  to  be  coldly  acknow¬ 
ledged  by  the  intellect,  and  not  gathered  into  the 
inmost  chambers  of  the  heart  ?  No !  Beauty  does 
help  us  to  perform  our  duties,  and  carries  out  a  most 
beneficent  design  for  our  moral  and  intellectual  being. 
I  know  of  no  grosser  treason  to  its  Author  than  the 
denial  of  truths  so  widely  spread  over  creation.  The 
unjust  alike  with  the  just  partake  without  price  of  its 
bounties,  but  it  is  only  to  those  whose  spiritual  eyes 
are  opened  that  its  full  glories  are  revealed. 

Unfortunately  for  the  development  of  the  faculties 

E 


74 


ART-HINTS. 


of  man,  which  are  more  directly  adapted  to  the  ac¬ 
knowledgment  and  appreciation  of  Beauty  in  its  divine 
sense,  our  education  is  too  partial  in  its  principles. 
We  esteem  it  a  wise  thing  that  our  children  shall 
demonstrate  the  problems  of  Euclid,  tell  us  the  dis¬ 
tance  from  one  planet  to  another,  the  number  of  petals 
to  a  flower,  the  sides  to  a  crystal,  or  the  anatomy  of 
the  animal  kingdom.  These  things,  with  a  smatter¬ 
ing  of  what  man  has  performed  in  various  ages,  a 
barren  nomenclature  of  his  crimes  or  virtues,  and  the 
ability  to  repeat  mere  facts  in  several  tongues,  consti¬ 
tute  the  chief  elements  of  modern  education.  It  is 
important  to  know  all  that  history  or  science  teaches, 
but  this  is  not  a  complete  education.  The  theoretic 
or  imaginative  faculties  being  either  despised  or  over¬ 
looked,  wanton  in  their  virgin  powers,  and  from  want 
of  the  very  discipline  to  which  the  reasoning  faculties 
have  been  subjected,  are  often  enabled  to  lead  them 
captive  from  mere  excess  of  vigor.  The  cultivation  of 
the  reasoning  to  the  neglect  of  the  ideal  powers  is  a 
fatal  mistake.  A  simple  confession  of  moral  truths, 
the  repetition  of  catechisms,  or  the  subscription  to 
creeds,  will  not  counterbalance  this  error.  Every 
day’s  experience  shows  to  us  instances  where  minds  of 
the  highest  order,  well  stored  in  knowledge  of  facts, 
and  faithfully  drilled  in  religious  truths,  are  yet  led 
captive  by  their  imaginations,  and  eventually  ruined  or 
rendered  miserable  for  life,  simply  from  overlooking 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  75 

the  importance  of  giving  a  right  direction  to  desires 
implanted  in  man  as  the  special  sources  of  his  nobler 
gratifications.  I  see  no  means  of  keeping  the  faculties 
well  balanced,  and  thus  preserving  a  healthful  indi¬ 
viduality,  but  by  elevating  the  education  and  discipline 
of  the  theoretic  faculties  to  the  same  standard  of 
importance  as  the  moral  and  scientific.  The  laws  of 
Beauty  are  so  easily  comprehended,  its  broad  principles 
so  perpetually  manifested,  and  the  delight  from  their 
appreciation  so  varied  and  infinite,  that  no  branch  of 
education  offers  more  of  interest  or  greater  promise  of 
success  in  giving  a  right  direction  to  the  heart,  modi¬ 
fying  the  material  influence  of  mere  scientific  teaching, 
or  infusing  joy  into  the  formalism  of  ordinary  religious 
truths.  Nature,  of  which  humanity  is  the  most  im¬ 
portant  part,  must  be  treated  as  a  grand  whole  if 
we  would  fully  develop  its  capacities.  An  excess  on 
one  side  is  so  much  loss  on  another.  As  with  na¬ 
tions  so  with  individuals,  the  failures  thus  far  are 
owing  to  the  one-sided  directions  given  to,  and  un¬ 
equal  cultivation  of,  mental  faculties.  Restore  the 
balance,  and  we  shall  make  the  first  great  step  towards 
perfect  humanity. 

Thus  we  perceive  that  education,  in  individuals  as 
well  as  nations,  must  be  restored  to  perfect  liberty,  in 
order  that  the  bonds  of  thought  or  custom  may  be 
loosed  and  the  mind  allowed  the  full  exercise  of  all  its 
powers.  Any  condition,  whether  of  prejudice,  habit, 


76 


ART-HINTS. 


rule,  or  education,  which  comes  short  of  freedom,  is 
a  bar  to  progress.  Hence  the  first  effort  of  the  mind 
should  be  to  divest  itself  of  every  impediment,  moral, 
political,  or  sensual,  which  hinders  the  development  of 
its  entire  nature. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING,  77 


CHAPTER  VI. 

BEAUTY,  UTILITY,  UGLINESS,  AND  TASTE. 

Although  the  feeling  for  Beauty  is  common  to  hu¬ 
manity,  yet  its  rightful  application  or  direction  depends 
in  a  great  degree  upon  cultivation.  Hence  arises  the 
necessity  of  its  becoming  a  branch  of  education,  of 
which  I  treated  in  the  preceding  chapter.  The  native 
feeling  for  Beauty  varies  not  only  in  races  but  indi¬ 
viduals,  and  depends  for  its  force  or  refinement  upon 
the  measure  of  the  ideal  faculties.  The  civilized 
nations  possess  it  in  a  greater  degree  than  the  barba¬ 
rous,  but  some  savages  possess  it  in  a  fuller  sense  than 
certain  whites.  Among  all,  however,  cultivation  is  the 
rule  of  difference.  Its  development  is  in  exact  ratio 
to  the  preponderance  of  the  spiritual  faculties  over  the 
sensual,  because  none  of  the  higher  manifestations  of 
Beauty  are  perceptible  to  eyes  clouded  by  passion  or 
dimmed  by  vice.  To  a  certain  degree  it  makes  man 
independent  of  the  merely  external  forces  of  nature, 
for  it  bestows  upon  him  the  power  of  deriving  happi- 


78 


ART-HINTS. 


ness,  more  from  those  sources  which  are  free  to  all, 
though  understood  hut  by  few,  than  from  the  exclusive 
possession  of  things  which  administer  to  his  fleshly 
appetites.  In  this  manner  he  rises  above  animal  wants 
or  selfish  promptings,  and  nourishes  within  himself  an 
indefeasible  principle  of  life  that  savors  of  the  “  peace 
which  passeth  understanding.” 

The  study  of  Beauty  produces  a  twofold  benefit : — 
firstly,  in  the  animal  consciousness  of  the  joy  of  ex¬ 
istence  arising  from  the  healthful  operation  and  in¬ 
crease  of  the  physical  powers  in  their  experience  of 
Nature’s  invigorative  effects  in  fresh  air  and  landscape  ; 
and  secondly,  in  the  simultaneous  expansion  of  the 
powers  of  the  soul ;  the  mental  exhilaration  arising 
from  the  perception  and  study  of  spiritual  truths  which 
are  foreshadowed  in  the  natural  world.  Unlike  all 
other  pursuits,  there  is  no  exhaustion  either  of  variety 
or  from  sense  of  fulness,  for  the  mind  grows  with  what 
it  feeds  upon,  and  step  by  step  approaches  the  infinite. 

In  no  point  is  the  goodness  of  God  more  manifest 
than  in  the  variety  with  which  he  has  furnished  Beauty, 
so  that  no  man,  however  humble  his  taste,  or  exalted 
his  imagination,  need  go  athirst  from  Nature’s  fount. 
Nature  is  the  true  democrat.  She  recognises  no  dis¬ 
tinctions  beside  the  natural  powers  of  men.  Beauty 
is  the  only  element  of  Paradise  reserved  to  us  from 
the  fall.  Every  moral  exertion  requires  a  correspond¬ 
ing  self-denial ;  every  triumph  of  knowledge,  labor  in 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  79 

proportion ;  but  Beauty  is  open-handed,  exhaustless  in 
store,  and  without  limit  in  its  enchantments.  Some 
natures  find  all  their  strength  in  the  moral  law.  They 
are  curbed  rather  than  attracted,  for  their  virtue  is 
more  of  fear  than  of  love.  Such  exceptions  as  these 
do  not  weaken  the  force  of  the  general  law,  but  prove 
its  beneficence. 

I  have  used  the  term  Beauty  so  as  to  include  all 
those  external  qualities  and  internal  functions,  which, 
by  their  harmony  and  happy  fulfilment  of  the  higher 
truths  of  existence,  delight  the  eye  and  exalt  the  soul. 
This  differs  from  its  definition  by  many  acute  minds, 
some  of  whom  would  confine  it  to  form  alone,  and 
others  to  simply  what  the  material  senses  take  cogni¬ 
zance  of  as  agreeable.  Burke  considers  it  as  mere 
life,  while  Schiller  states  it  to  be  tbe  common  object  of 
life  and  shape,  the  natural  food  of  the  play-impulse. 
These  definitions  seem  to  me  confused  and  partial, 
when  we  consider  its  origin  and  purpose.  I  shall, 
therefore,  adhere  to  the  broad  acceptation  expressed 
in  the  above  conditions,  which  comprise  every  possible 
form  under  which  it  can  affect  man.  In  this  I  am 
justified  by  the  thought  of  mankind.  We  call  the 
world  beautiful,  therefore  Beauty  applies  to  it  as  a 
whole,  not  only  from  its  own  glorious  hues  and  noble 
forms,  but  as  typical  of  the  power  and  goodness  that 
willed  it  being.  The  exceptions  to  this  universal 
Beauty  are  those  arising  from  falsehood  as  developed 


80 


ART-HINTS. 


in  vice  or  disease,  in  the  effect  of  both  of  which  tlm 
natural  world  participates  with  man. 

Truth  I  define  to  be  the  paramount  law  of  Beauty. 
Without  truth  of  form,  color,  design,  moral  purpose, 
vital  functions,  and  harmony,  without  some  one  or  all 
of  these,  there  can  be  no  Beauty.  Apply  this  test,  and 
we  have  the  result  in  the  above  definition.  Falsehood 
being  the  opposite  of  Truth,  the  first-born  of  sin  and 
the  primal  cause  of  human  misery,  is  the  parent  of  all 
the  discord,  pain,  and  sorrow  in  the  moral  universe. 
We  believe  it  equally  to  have  marred  the  physical 
world.  Its  chief  type  is  truly  styled  the  father  of  lies, 
and  its  form  represented  as  Ugliness.  Herein  we  find 
the  two  broad  distinctions  which  divide  the  empire  of 
the  earth  between  them.  Their  principles  are  as 
opposite  as  light  from  dark. 

These  two  divisions  do  not  absolutely  include  all 
things  or  qualities,  though  perhaps  none  can  be  found 
which  are  not  in  more  or  less  degree  affected  by  one 
or  both  of  them,  in  parts  or  as  wholes.  Beauty  of 
form  may  be  united  with  ugliness  of  temper,  and 
lovely  color  with  a  deadly  poison.  Truth  and  false¬ 
hood,  with  their  attendant  good  and  evil,  health  or 
disease,  are  so  actively  blended  in  the  living,  and 
passively  in  inanimate  nature,  from  sympathy  with 
man  in  his  fall  or  from  his  direct  influence,  that  it  is 
difficult  to  draw  an  unerring  line  in  regard  to  objects, 
though  not  as  to  qualities.  Upon  trial  I  believe  that 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  81 

everything,  either  as  complete  or  in  members,  exter¬ 
nally  or  internally,  will  be  found  to  be  affected  by  the 
direct  or  latent  operations  of  the  principles  of  Beauty 
or  Ugliness  in  the  sense  in  which  I  have  defined  them. 
Still  they  are  so  inactive  in  many  objects,  as,  for 
instance,  a  house  without  ornament  built  solely  for  use, 
though  it  is  difficult  to  avoid  positive  Ugliness  in  any¬ 
thing  man  executes  not  directly  influenced  by  the 
spirit  of  Beauty — a  horse  which  may  be  neither  beau¬ 
tiful  nor  ugly,  but  well-conditioned  and  serviceable, 
and  of  inanimate  objects  such  as  a  hat,  a  brick,  or  a 
piece  of  india-rubber,  and  those  things  which  may  be 
considered  as  negative  in  respect  to  the  above  qualifi¬ 
cations — that  it  may  be  well  to  consider  all  things  whose 
direct  object  is  simply  Use  as  coming  under  the  head 
of  an  intermediate  class,  which,  from  the  preponderance 
of  its  spirit,  we  will  term  Utility.  This  class  is, 
however,  the  connecting  link  between  the  other  two, 
answering  for  a  neutral  ground,  where  each  may  meet, 
as  it  were,  in  peace  ;  and  although  absolutely  affecting 
everything  that  they  touch,  yet  leaving  the  chief  law 
of  the  intermediate  or  transition  division,  Use,  as  dis¬ 
tinguished  from  Ornament  or  Homeliness,  independent 
in  its  action.  How  many  things  do  we  see  that  are 
positively  ugly  as  a  whole,  whose  principal  aim  is  use, 
yet  in  parts  or  qualities  partake  of  beauty !  Nature  is 
so  lavish  of  it  that  there  is  no  object  but  has  a  portion 
of  its  spirit ;  a  relic  of  former  or  a  symbol  of  future 

E* 


82 


ART-HINTS. 


perfection.  So  largely  does  it  enter  into  the  desire  of 
man,  that  he  always  strives  in  some  form  or  other  in 
external  matter  to  manifest  it,  as.  though  it  were  an 
involuntary  law  of  his  being.  He  is  equally  soli¬ 
citous  to  avoid  physical  ugliness  by  an  impulse  no  less 
genuine  ;  so  that  we  may  consider  the  ideal  faculty 
bears  the  same  relation  to  material  nature  that  con¬ 
science  does  to  the  spiritual  world.  Both  are  innate, 
hut  both  require  cultivation  to  appreciate  truth  in  its 
noblest  combinations  of  spirit  and  matter. 

Beauty  comprises  Sublimity,  though  this  term  being 
rightly  joined  only  to  things  or  motives,  and  actions  or 
faculties  imbued  with  the  Divine  essence  or  will,  may 
be  considered  apart,  or  as  the  highest  manifestations 
of  those  qualities  which  constitute  Beauty.  Its  chief 
attribute  is  Power,  as  characterised  by  extent  or 
dimensions;  and  Will,  as  manifesting  high  resolve  and 
stern  purpose.  Power  is  displayed  in  the  fearful 
phenomena  of  Nature  as  well  as  in  her  forms.  It  is 
from  the  ocean,  in  calm  or  rage,  the  tempest  with  its 
thunder  notes  and  lightning  glances,  the  upheaved, 
heaven-supporting,  snow-capped  mountain,  with  its  icy 
coronet,  and  the  broad  expanses  of  eye-mocking  plains, 
that  we  receive  our  most  common  ideas  of  sublimity. 
Its  noblest  developments  are  to  be  found  in  the  aroused 
energies  of  the  human  mind,  consecrated  to  lofty  pur¬ 
poses,  and  in  the  presence  of  God  when  He  comes, 
not  in  the  fire  or  the  whirlwind,  but  in  the  “  still  small 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  83 

voice,”  while  all  Nature  lies  hushed  at  the  advent  of 
its  Maker. 

Sublimity  is  at  once  the  noblest  and  most  difficult 
aim  of  Art.  The  emotion  has  never  yet  been  rendered 
unless  in  an  inferior  degree.  Indeed,  we  doubt  if 
there  be  any  object  in  the  entire  range  of  Art  that  can 
be  termed  truly  sublime,  because  sublimity  allows  of 
no  inferiority  of  detail.  All  parts  must  be  equal,  and 
each  pitched  to  its  highest  possible  expression.  There¬ 
fore,  sublimity  may  be  considered  for  the  present 
as  out  of  the  power  of  Art,  except  in  a  merely  sug¬ 
gestive  sense. 

Grace,  however,  is  completely  within  its  power. 
The  artist  who  fails  therein  has  no  calling  for  Art. 
Sublimity  is  a  rare  exhibition  of  Nature’s  effects,  but 
Grace  is  everywhere.  There  is  not  a  line  of  Nature 
or  created  object  but  in  some  form  or  other  develops 
this  quality.  Therefore  is  the  artist  inexcusable  who 
lacks  its  spirit. 

The  knowledge  or  feeling  by  which  we  arrive  at  a 
more  or  less  correct  discernment  of  Beauty,  we  call 
Taste.  In  its  best  form  it  is  the  result  of  the  cultiva¬ 
tion  of  the  imagination  under  the  guidance  of  reason. 
In  its  common  acceptation  it  rs  intuitive  in  its  nature, 
because  it  operates  unconsciously  and  from  natural 
preferences,  without  reference  to  reason  or  experience. 
I  confine  the  term  to  those  objects,  motives,  or  actions, 
in  which  Beauty,  or  pleasure  as  connected  with  desire, 


84 


ART-HINTS. 


are  presumed  to  be  the  chief  elements.  The  use  to 
which  Beauty  is  artistically  applied  is  the  province  of 
Taste.  It  tells  us  not  only  what  to  like.,  but  how  to 
employ  our  likings.  If  it  be  formed  before  the  intel¬ 
lect  is  disciplined  it  is  liable  to  error,  because  it  has 
no  firmer  foundation  than  impulse.  This  is  its  usual 
manifestation.  Hence  the  frequent  mistakings  of  form 
for  reality,  and  the  sacrifice  of  truth  for  appearance, 
giving  birth  to  the  hydra,  Sham. 

The  law  of  Taste  is  harmony.  It  creates  refine¬ 
ment,  and  places  society  at  repose  with  itself.  The 
individual  or  nation  deficient  in  taste  may  be  sincere, 
vigorous,  and  powerful ;  but  neither  can  be  in  complete 
harmony  with  themselves  and  the  surrounding  world 
until  they  have  submitted  to  its  softening  influences. 
Consistent  with  virtue  it  adds  grace  to  religion.  To 
man  it  is  what  Beauty  is  to  Nature — its  smile. 

But  Taste,  in  its  primary  manifestations,  being  the 
result  of  feeling,  is,  as  with  the  savage,  violent,  capri¬ 
cious,  bizarre.  He  seeks  what  pleases  him  by  brute 
force  or  cunning.  A  stranger  to  the  self-subduing 
influences  of  refinement,  he  knows  no  law  stronger 
than  his  selfishness.  By  degrees,  as  he  becomes  the 
civilized  man,  we  see  him  submitting  to  Taste,  and 
acknowledging  its  humanizing  powers.  Among,  howr- 
ever,  the  most  polished  nations,  we  find  the  common 
mind  partakes  in  its  judgments  of  much  of  savage 
eccentricity.  Without  knowledge  as  to  the  correct 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  85 

principles  on  which  Taste  is  founded,  it  selects  the 
striking ;  delights  in  startling  contrasts ;  mistakes 
show  for  substance  ;  calls  for  highly-wrought  physical 
emotion  and  strong  workings  of  passion  ;  in  short,  it 
finds  its  chief  sustenance  in  the  vehement,  grotesque, 
low,  or  changeful.  At  one  moment  fashion  rules ;  at 
another  prejudice  ;  in  none  good  taste.  But  as  the 
individual  escapes  from  out  of  this  turmoil  of  the 
senses,  he  perceives  the  nature  of  the  Beauty  that  con¬ 
stitutes  Taste,  as  its  exponent.  His  love  of  excitement, 
unwholesome  variety,  and  strong  emotions,  abates,  so 
that  at  last  he  finds  his  highest  pleasure  in  the  reali¬ 
zations  of  those  general  harmonies  of  form,  color, 
motive,  or  action,  by  which  God  has  written  his  spirit 
on  the  face  of  the  universe.  He  discovers  that  parts 
are  valuable  only  as  they  help  to  make  up  the  perfect 
whole.  These  truths  react  upon  his  own  character, 
until  we  discover  in  him  an  epitome  of  those  laws  of 
harmony  by  which  the  world  is  kept  stedfast,  and  the 
strength  of  unity  spread  over  its  surface.  Then,  and 
then  only,  can  we  say  of  an  individual  that  he  possesses 
good  taste.  At  peace  with  himself  and  the  laws  of 
Nature,  he  readily  puts  himself  in  harmony  with  the 
spiritual  world.  In  this  manner  we  approach  the 
perfect  man. 

The  proof  of  good  taste  lies  in  the  general  harmony 
of  character  and  ability  to  detect  beauty  under  every 
guise.  There  is  no  stronger  evidence  of  incorrect 


86 


ART-HINTS. 


taste  than  an  approach  to  the  savage  in  his  love  for 
the  false,  desire  for  change  and  fluctuation  of  opinion. 
The  laws  of  Taste,  although  subtle,  are  immutable, 
and  founded  upon  those  analogies  of  the  natural  laws 
to  which  I  have  already  referred.  We  shall  find  that 
all  who  study  their  operation  arrive  at  similar  conclu¬ 
sions.  From  this  fact  philosophy  establishes  fixed 
rules,  as  naturalists  educe  the  laws  of  matter,  by  com¬ 
mon  investigations.  There  is,  therefore,  no  truth  in 
the  popular  idea  that  a  variety  of  tastes  is  evidence  of 
freedom.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  a  proof  of  uncultiva¬ 
tion.  From  out  of  freedom  we  elucidate  truth,  and 
truth  leads  us  to  the  universal  laws  by  which  mind  and 
matter  are  governed.  When  we  perceive  our  desires 
to  be  capricious  and  uncertain,  without  law  for  the 
impulses  within,  we  may  rest  assured  that  we  are  not 
on  the  road  to  good  taste.  That  manifests  itself  always 
in  harmony  and  unity. 

There  is  no  more  certain  test  of  good  taste  than 
the  involuntary  selection  of  subjects  by  the  eye  on 
viewing  for  the  first  time  ornament  in  objects  of  Art. 
Nature  works  on  so  large  or  true  a  scale  that  few 
judge  her  amiss.  That  which  is  majestic,  noble,  pic¬ 
turesque,  or  simply  beautiful  as  a  whole,  classes  itself 
at  once  in  all  minds,  and  the  fact  of  a  common  deci¬ 
sion  on  these  points  demonstrates  the  genuineness  of 
the  laws  of  Taste.  The  common  mind  differs  from  the 
cultivated  in  its  knowledge  and  appreciation  of  Nature’s 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  87 

beauty  in  detail.  The  former  sees  only  partially,  the 
latter  grasps  the  whole  and  distinguishes  the  parts ; 
nothing,  however  humble,  which  goes  to  make  up  the 
chord  of  beauty,  escapes  its  notice.  Where  the 
appreciation  of  the  one  ends,  the  pleasure  of  the  other 
is  but  begun,  so  that  his  delight  is  as  true  and  infinite 
as  Nature  herself.  The  natural  eye,  therefore,  sees 
all  things  as  in  a  glass,  darkly — the  cultivated  penetrates 
the  film  of  Nature,  and  looks  into  her  heart. 

In  Art,  the  uncultivated  taste  is  more  liable  to  go 
wrong,  both  from  the  defective  material  with  which 
Art  is  rendered,  and  the  impossibility  of  competing 
with  Nature  on  her  scale.  The  harmonious  is  passed 
by  for  the  violent ;  action  is  preferred  to  repose ;  and 
glaring  contrasts  of  color  to  natural  gradations.  As 
a  general  rule,  the  mere  show  of  Art,  which  is  false 
because  soulless,  has  the  intuitive  preference.  Even 
this  poverty  gives  place  to  the  greater  satisfaction 
found  in  upholstery  and  those  objects  in  which  use  is 
made  secondary  to  luxury,  while  only  enough  of  Art  is 
borrowed  to  display  the  counterfeit.  To  elevate  the 
mind  above  this  unwholesome  preference  is  an  object 
worthy  of  the  attention  of  all  true  friends  of  human 
progress.  It  can  be  done  only  by  patient  study  and 
close  examination,  rejecting  not  hastily,  and  accepting 
only  when  the  spirit  is  proved  ;  diligently  seeking  for 
treasure  which,  like  the  pearl,  may  often  be  found  down 
deep  in  mud ;  and  eagerly  pursuing  the  ideal,  through 
all  its  variety,  to  its  ultimate  source  of  perfection. 


88 


ART-HINTS. 


CHAPTER  VIE 

VARIETY  OF  BEAUTY — FANCY — IMAGINATION. 

Beauty  is  in  no  way  more  wonderfully  manifested, 
than  in  the  variety  which  supplies  to  every  bias  that 
element  which  best  agrees  with  its  spirit.  One  man 
seeks  his  ideal  in  the  sublime,  another  in  the  wild  ; 
the  quiet  delights  some,  while  others  select  that  which 
glows  with  life  ;  each  finds  in  Nature  scope  for  his 
love,  and  principles  to  regulate  his  choice.  The  fact 
that  the  eye  often  sees  without  mental  recognition  is 
a  powerful  argument  for  the  training  to  which  I  have 
alluded,  by  which  mind  shall  be  ever  progressing  in  its 
perceptions  of  beauty.  Without  this,  much  necessarily 
escapes  its  observation :  things  are  seen  only  in 
general ;  form  as  form,  color  as  color,  large  masses, 
and  so  on,  without  regard  to  their  harmonious  combi¬ 
nations,  or  the  endless  detail  of  composition  and 
arrangement  in  Beauty’s  scale,  by  which  unity  is 
effected  ;  for  it  is  only  by  the  enlargement  of  mind  that 
complete  impressions  are  received. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  89 

In  no  one  respect  is  man  more  obtuse  than  in  his 
indifference  to  the  infinite  variety  and  beauty  displayed 
in  the  common  effects  of  Nature,  within  the  reach  of  all 
to  witness.  I  believe  no  human  being  exists,  in  a 
healthful  condition,  who  can  look  emotionless  on  the 
ocean.  This  results  from  its  innate  sublimity.  The 
landscape,  especially  in  its  repose,  is  less  felt.  Men 
listen  in  dread  to  its  thunders,  and  shrink  from  its 
lightnings ;  the  majesty  of  the  avalanche,  indeed, 
causes  their  souls  to  wither  within  them,  while  the 
rising  of  waters  in  their  wrath  brings  to  them  terror. 
The  sun  and  rain  are  mere  instruments  by  which  grain 
is  grown  and  ripened,  and  harvest  gathered ;  clouds 
are  but  accumulations  of  vapor  destined,  in  due 
season,  to  replenish  their  wells ;  while  the  winds  grind 
their  corn,  propel  cargoes  to  distant  markets,  and  do 
the  duty  of  atmospherical  scavengers.  But  of  all 
spiritual  inappreciation,  there  is  none  more  wide-spread 
than  towards  the  sky.  Ruskin,  in  his  ‘  Modern  Painters,’ 
thus  feelingly  alludes  to  this  mental  obliquity  : — 

“  It  is  a  strange  tiling  how  little,  in  general,  people 
know  about  the  sky.  It  is  the  part  of  creation  in 
which  Nature  has  done  more  for  the  sake  of  pleasing 
man — more  for  the  sole  and  evident  purpose  of  talking 
to  him  and  teaching  him,  than  in  any  other  of  her 
works ;  and  it  is  just  the  part  in  which  we  least  attend 
to  her.  There  are  not  many  of  her  other  works  in 
which  some  more  material  or  essential  purpose  than 


ART-HINTS. 


00 

the  mere  pleasing  of  men,  is  not  answered  by  every 
part  of  their  organisation ;  but  every  essential  purpose 
of  the  sky  might,  so  far  as  we  know,  be  answered,  if, 
once  in  three  days,  or  thereabouts,  a  great  ugly  black 
rain-cloud  were  brought  up  over  the  blue,  and  every¬ 
thing  well-watered,  and  so  all  left  blue  agaiu  till  next 
time,  with  perhaps  a  film  of  morning  or  evening  mist 
for  dew.  And  instead  of  this,  there  is  not  a  moment 
of  any  day  of  our  lives  when  Nature  is  not  producing 
scene  after  scene,  picture  after  picture,  glory  after 
glory,  and  working  still  upon  such  exquisite  and  con¬ 
stant  principles  of  the  most  perfect  beauty,  that  it  is 
quite  certain  that  it  is  all  done  for  us,  and  intended 
for  our  perpetual  pleasure.  And  every  man  wherever 
placed,  however  far  from  other  sources  of  interest  or  of 
beauty,  has  this  doing  for  him  constantly.  The  noblest 
scenes  of  the  earth  can  be  seen  and  known  but  by  few  ; 
it  is  not  intended  that  man  should  live  always  in  the 
midst  of  them;  he  injures  them  by  his  presence,  he 
ceases  to  feel  them,  if  he  be  always  with  them  ;  but 
the  sky  is  for  all ;  bright  as  it  is,  it  is  not  ‘  too  bright 
nor  good  for  human  nature’s  daily  food.’  Sometimes 
gentle,  sometimes  capricious,  sometimes  awful ;  never 
the  same  for  two  moments  together ;  almost  human  in 
its  passions — spiritual  in  its  tenderness — almost  divine 
in  its  infinity — its  appeal  to  what  is  immortal  in  us  is 
as  distinct  as  its  ministry  of  chastisement  or  of  blessing 
to  what  is  mortal,  is  essential. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  91 

“  And  yet  we  never  attend  to  it ;  we  never  make  it 
a  subject  of  thought,  but  as  it  has  to  do  with  our 
animal  sensation ;  we  look  upon  all  by  which  it  speaks 
to  us  more  clearly  than  to  brutes — upon  all  which 
bears  witness  to  the  intention  of  the  Supreme,  that  we 
are  to  receive  more  from  the  covering  vault  than  the 
light  and  the  dew  which  we  share  with  the  weed  and 
the  worm — only  as  a  succession  of  meaningless  and 
monotonous  accidents,  too  common  and  too  painful  to 
be  worthy  of  a  moment  of  watchfulness  or  a  glance  of 
admiration.” 

It  lies  within  the  power  of  Art,  in  a  great  degree,  to 
do  away  with  this  indifference,  and  draw  man  by  the 
ties  of  Beauty  to  a  closer  walk  with  Nature.  But  to 
effect  this,  it  must  do  something  more  than  give  the 
outer  form  ;  it  must  repeat  the  spirit,  for  its  mission  is 
not  so  much  to  gratify  the  eye,  as  to  elevate  and  purify 
the  mind.  The  distinction  between  these  two  prin¬ 
ciples  and  the  character  of  the  landscape,  will  be  sub¬ 
jects  of  after  consideration  ;  at  present  my  object  is 
simply  to  call  attention  to  the  sources  of  Beauty,  and 
the  means  by  which  we  are  led  to  comprehend  its  laws. 

The  general  term  used  to  designate  the  faculty  of 
mind  particularly  devoted  to  the  reception  and  appre¬ 
ciation  of  Beauty,  is  Ideality.  It  is  a  restless,  insatiable 
quality,  always  fed  yet  never  satisfied,  prompting  man 
continually  to  strive  after  the  perfect,  and  affording 
him  delight  in  proportion  as  that  consummation  is 


92 


ARTfHINTS. 


approached.  Two  ministering  spirits  are  constantly 
in  attendance,  to  seize  upon,  create,  or  detect  whatever 
is  natural  to  its  appetite.  These  are  Imagination  and 
Fancy. 

Their  manifestations  vary  so  much  according  as  they 
are  modified  by  other  faculties,  that  we  should,  per¬ 
haps,  to  do  justice  to  their  full  powers,  give  in  detail 
the  features  they  assume  ;  but  for  my  general  purpose, 
an  understanding  of  their  generic  mode  of  operation 
will  be  sufficient. 

Imagination  is  the  interior,  or  soul,  and  Fancy  the 
surface,  or  external  manifestation  of  Ideality.  The 
two  are  seldom  found  in  full  strength  in  the  same  indi¬ 
vidual,  and  each  influences  character  in  a  perceptibly 
different  degree,  though  by  many  confounded  under 
one  meaning. 

Fancy  is  the  play  of  Ideality.  It  sports  upon  the 
surface  of  things,  darting  like  the  bee  from  flower  to 
flower,  loading  itself  with  sweets  as  it  flies.  From  it 
we  gather  pleasant  detail,  bright  images,  quaint  ideas, 
clear  and  joyous  expressions  of  life,  and  those  variable 
qualities  which  we  term  fancies,  that,  accoi'ding  to 
the  light  in  which  they  are  reflected,  give  to  existence 
a  sunny  or  a  sorrowful  aspect.  By  its  wayward  flights 
we  are  often  seduced  from  sober  truth  and  compelled 
to  retrace  our  steps  by  the  deep  worn  path  of  stern 
reality.  It  deceives  us  the  oftener  because  it  dallies 
so  much  with  mere  outward  shape  or  quality,  alter- 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  93 

nately  flinging  roses  or  thorns  in  our  way,  as  best  suits 
its  capricious  mood.  It  defies  bondage ;  closes  its 
petals,  like  the  sensitive  plant,  to  the  touch ;  is  at  once 
timid  and  daring,  and  perishes  under  restraint ;  so 
that,  while  no  element  of  the  mind  is  better  qualified 
to  develop  gaiety,  yet  none  is  more  productive  of 
transient  pain. 

Fancy  perpetually  suggests,  but  never  completes. 
Without  heart  it  gives  no  heat,  but  lights  up  what  it 
touches  with  opal-like  flashes  of  color,  or  lingers 
coldly  upon  far-off  things,  giving  them  a  mocking  glow 
of  warmth,  as  play  the  departing  beams  of  day  with 
rainbow  hues  upon  the  snowy  peaks  of  the  Andes,  long 
after  the  sun  has  sunk  below  the  mighty  ocean-horizon 
of  the  Pacific. 

The  connexion  between  Fancy  and  Imagination  is 
very  intimate.  They  run  into  each  other  so  often  that 
the  ordinary  mind  frequently  either  mistakes  the  one 
for  the  other,  or  considers  them  as  but  a  common 
operation  of  the  intellect.  Their  distinctions  are, 
however,  very  palpable,  and  particularly  important  to 
be  kept  in  view  in  testing  the  relative  merits  of  works 
of  Art.  Both  enter  largely  into  all  noble  work,  and,  to 
a  very  great  degree,  are  the  touchstones  by  which  we 
can  prove  the  quality  of  the  mind  from  which  they 
spring.  They  are  the  reflection  of  its  highest  powers  ; 
the  one  sparkling  with  intellect,  the  other  burning 
with  thought. 


94 


ART- HINTS, 


The  legitimate  exercise  of  Fancy  is  in  amusement  or 
ornament.  As  these  objects  are  but  of  secondary 
importance  in  Art,  it  will  be  at  once  perceived  that 
that  faculty  of  the  mind  which  develops  the  inner 
life  is  the  most  important  element  of  Art. 

This  we  find  in  Imagination.  It  is  the  soul  of 
Ideality,  the  essence  by  which  it  penetrates  the  very 
heart  of  things  and  qualities,  looking  through  external 
matter,  and  bringing  up  from  out  of  the  mysterious 
depths  of  Nature,  the  secret  springs  of  existence. 
Reason  is  limited  in  its  power,  circumscribed  in  its 
action ;  but  Imagination  soars  to  heaven  and  descends 
to  hell  ;  expands  itself  into  eternity,  or  contracts  itself 
into  a  moment ;  at  one  time  finds  food  in  a  grain  of 
sand,  at  another  craves  for  infinity.  Nothing  is  above 
its  daring  or  beneath  its  notice.  Casting  aside  as 
the  aliment  of  meaner  faculties  all  outward  images,  it 
seeks  to  render  the  Idea  ;  that  which  gives  soul  to 
substance,  and  laying  hold  of  the  spiritual  essence 
brings  it  up  before  our  vision,— unseen  by  material 
eyes,  yet  so  distinct  and  palpable  as  to  overshadow  all 
outward  show,  placing  us  in  full  possession  of  the 
thought  itself. 

In  action  it  varies :  obscure,  it  fascinates  by  mystery  ; 
lofty,  it  charms  by  daring ;  associative,  it  wins  by 
feeling ;  thoughtful,  it  seduces  reason ;  serious,  it 
captivates  the  heart :  to  the  entire  nature  of  man  it 
appeals,  elevating  and  bewildering,  asserting  and  de- 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  95 

uying,  demanding  and  giving,  at  once  raising  him  to 
bliss  and  depressing  him  to  anguish  ;  in  all  things  the 
phantom-genius  of  his  existence. 

Imagination  creates.  Its  office  in  Art  is  to  endow 
matter  with  spirit.  In  a  function  so  lofty  it  asserts  its 
kin  to  Divinity,  as  the  noblest  of  its  intellectual  gifts. 
Every  artistic  conception  depends  for  its  highest 
elevation  of  character  upon  imagination  ;  consequently 
where  it  does  not  exist  there  can  be  nothing  nobler 
than  either  fancy  or  mere  imitation.  By  it  we  test 
the  true  power  of  the  artist  or  poet.  Without  this 
faculty  they  may  reason,  but  they  cannot  make  us  feel ; 
they  may  amuse,  but  they  cannot  pierce  our  souls. 
Subtle  and  profound,  eager  and  impatient,  sympathising 
with  all  deep  emotion  and  intense  passion ;  at  once 
pliant  and  ungovernable,  owing  no  allegiance  except  to 
self,  its  manifestations  are  as  varied  as  its  powers.  Un¬ 
like  Fancy,  which  lights  up  only  with  flickering  glare, 
Imagination  tenderly  penetrates  the  inmost  recesses  of 
the  heart,  warming  its  very  fibres,  and  imparting  new 
health  to  its  life-blood  ;  or  it  seizes  upon  the  passions 
and  whirls  them  about  in  its  grasp  with  a  demoniacal 
vigor,  until  reason  falls  bewildered  from  her  throne. 
It  imparts  activity  to  virtue,  horror  to  crime.  It 
suggests  only  to  interpret  or  act ;  but  its  acts  and 
thoughts  can  only  be  comprehended  in  their  full,  deep 
meaning  by  corresponding  power.  Hence  we  find  that 
deeply-imaginative  artists  are  an  enigma  to  common 


96 


ART-HINTS. 


minds.  They  see  in  the  impatience  of  detail  or  ex¬ 
ternals,  so  often  perceptible  in  the  works  of  genius, 
evidences  only  of  ignorance  and  poverty,  and  not  the 
haste  of  a  great  mind  to  render  its  thoughts.  Even 
where  form  and  color  have  been  combined  in  their 
highest  degree  of  artistic  merit,  such  minds  stop  at  the 
outward  appearance  and  repeat  only  the  alphabet  of 
the  idea.  The  artist  is  unappreciated  in  that  in  which 
he  feels  himself  really  great ;  for  the  imagination 
works,  either  from  the  heart,  outwardly,  finding  its 
power  in  itself,  or  beginning  at  the  surface,  does  not  stop 
until  it  has,  conscience-like,  unmasked  every  feature  of 
the  soul.  Therefore,  rightly  to  enjoy  high  Art,  it  is 
necessary  to  understand  the  multifarious  operations  of 
the  imaginative  faculty  in  both  the  artist  and  ourselves, 
for  unless  we  know  ourselves,  we  may  be  sure  that  we 
cannot  comprehend  another. 

Fancy  is  to  Art  what  the  perfume  is  to  the  flower. 
Imagination  is  as  the  sun,  from  which  it  derives  light 
and  heat.  Both  Fancy  and  Imagination  may  be  said  to 
be  awake  when  reason  sleeps,  as  in  dreams.  This  is 
their  vulgar  and  useless  form.  In  a  higher  degree 
they  assume  the  character  of  visions,  frequently  impart¬ 
ing  falsities,  and  sometimes  truths,  beyond  the  ability 
of  mere  reason  either  to  discover  or  accept.  Whence 
come  these  tidings,  these  intuitive  glimpses  of  other 
spheres,  which  the  mind  cannot  prove,  nor  yet  dis¬ 
claim  ?  They  fasten  themselves,  as  it  were,  into  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  97 

very  marrow  of  our  being  ;  and  while  all  other  sensa¬ 
tions  are  transitory  in  their  effects,  these  incomprehen¬ 
sible,  intangible  whisperings,  like  angel  voices  or  the 
sneers  of  devils,  begetting  faith  or  doubt,  attach  them¬ 
selves  to  us  with  the  tenacity  of  dogmas.  Whence  are 
they,  if  they  be  not  the  reflex  of  a  spirit-world — that 
unseen  link  of  communication  left  amid  material  matter 
to  establish  within  us  the  doctrine  of  immortality  ? 

Ail  great  thoughts  partake  of  this  spirit-power. 
Poets,  like  those  of  the  chosen  people  of  old,  and  of  all 
time,  in  whom  this  living  well  gushes  freely  forth, 
become  seers,  and  tell  us  tidings  that  no  mortal  eyes 
can  read.  But  this  is  foreign  to  our  subject-matter, 
except  so  far  as  a  great  artist  can  manifest  his  pro¬ 
phetic  thought  in  his  work — a  power,  which  may  be 
said  still  remains  to  be  developed  in  the  usual  chan¬ 
nels  of  Art. 


F 


98 


ART-HINTS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

INFINITY,  POWER,  REPOSE,  SINCERITY,  VARIETY,  AND 
UNITY — THE  TRUTHS  OF  NATURE  AS  APPLIED  TO  ART. 

Having  in  the  preceding  chapters  considered  Art, 
externally,  as  in  its  historical  relations,  and  internally, 
as  connected  with  Beauty,  also  the  faculties  by  which 
we  are  led  to  perceive  and  comprehend  both  in  their 
mutual  bearings,  I  have  now  to  dwell  more  particu¬ 
larly  upon  those  features  of  Nature  which  are  the 
proper  subject-matter  of  Art,  and  also  those  general 
principles  by  which  she  appeals  most  powerfully  to  our 
love,  and  admiration. 

Without,  an  intimate  knowledge  of  Nature  we  are 
incompetent  to  judge  of  Art,  because  Art,  correctly 
speaking,  is  but  the  mirror  of  Nature.  Whenever  it 
steps  beyond  what  we  see  and  know  of  the  natural 
world,  it  seeks  the  superhuman,  and,  therefore,  strictly 
speaking,  the  impossible.  Still  there  are  conceptions 
with  which  the  artist  may  clothe  his  work  that  savor 
so  directly  of  spiritual  life,  finding  their  being  in  his 
imagination,  as  to  elevate  our  feeling  above  the  ordi- 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  99 

nary  range  of  creation,  and  bring  us  nigher  to  the 
throne  of  God.  Yet  even  in  these  cases  it  will  be 
found  that  all  forms  are  borrowed  of  earth,  and  made 
typical  or  supernaturally  beautiful,  only  through  the 
ennobling  power  of  imagination,  seeking  its  ideal  form 
in  realms  of  perpetual  bliss.  So,  when  imagination 
descends  to  draw  up  from  the  depths  of  everlasting 
misery,  shapes  and  passions  steeped  in  crime,  con¬ 
science-wrecked  souls  that  have  become  .the  sport  of 
devils,  helpless  and  hopeless  for  eternity,  amid  tor¬ 
turing  fires  that  annihilate  but  to  recreate,  and  con¬ 
suming  flames  that  eat  up  all  spirit  matter,  but  keep 
alive  the  sensual,  it  still  borrows  the  forms  of  the 
natural  creation.  It  typifies  fiendish  joy,  and  depicts 
demon  forms  with  their  food  of  human  woe,  and  retri¬ 
bution  of  human  sin,  in  shapes  that  savor  of  earth, 
while  borrowing  their  foul  garments,  prolific  horror, 
and  hideous  natures  from  their  homes  of  filth,  false¬ 
hood,  and  ugliness.  Such  is  the  unfathomable  power 
of  that  faculty  which  stops  not  upon  the  confines  of 
nature,  but  ever  strives  to  fathom  the  invisible  and 
explore  the  future. 

Subjects  of  this  nature  should  be  attempted  only  by 
the  highest  order  of  minds,  and  by  these  but  rarely. 
In  all  others  they  become  pitifully  contemptible,  and 
bring  disrepute  upon  the  solemn  mysteries  of  religious 
faith. 

The  natural  landscape,  however,  appeals  to  all,  and 


100 


ART-HINTS. 


constantly  strives  to  make  itself  understood.  The 
first  field  of  Art  lies,  therefore,  amid  the  material 
beauties  of  the  earth.  To  it  all  must  go  for  inspira¬ 
tion  ;  but  a  chosen  few  should  venture  beyond  its 
province.  Yet  of  all  things  the  landscape  has  been 
the  least  studied ;  consequently,  while  of  human  form 
and  human  inventions  there  are  tolerably  good  artistic 
representations  from  many  hands,  of  the  thickly-strown 
beauties  of.  Nature,  we  have  thus  far,  with  but  few 
exceptions,  positively  nothing.  This  results  from  lack 
of  that  close  communion,  which  alone  begets  conge¬ 
niality  of  feeling. 

The  first  lessons  of  all  men,  whether  artists  or  not, 
should  be  in  the  open  air,  in  close  relations  with  the 
thought  of  God,  as  illustrated  in  his  physical  world. 
To  this  altar,  as  to  the  feet  of  Gamaliel,  should  children 
be  led  to  receive  their  earliest  impressions,  not  of  the 
anatomy  of  animals,  the  structure  of  plants,  or  the 
chemical  properties  of  minerals,  or  of  the  practical 
uses  of  anything,  for  all  that  is  the  province  of  book 
knowledge,  but  to  teach  them  the  ways  of  Providence 
from  the  broad  pages  of  Nature.  It  is  far  better  for 
their  souls  to  know  why  the  bird  flies  than  how;  to 
detect  loveliness  in  the  daisy  than  to  number  its  petals  ; 
to  feel  the  wide-spread  magnificence  of  mountains,  the 
bounteousness  of  the  plains,  the  sublimity  of  the  ocean, 
and  the  beauty  of  the  sky,  than  to  probe  the  rock  strata 
for  ores,  number  the  grains  of  wheat  for  gain,  dry  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  101 

ocean  for  its  salt,  or  watch  the  clouds  for  rain.  The 
knowledge  that  discloses  to  us  the  wondrous  working 
of  Nature  as  a  whole,  witli  reference  to  its  authorship, 
is  far  more  ennobling  than  that  which  pries  into  its 
mysteries,  solely  for  use  ;  fathoming  detail  to  admi¬ 
nister  to  sense ;  although  even  this  is  ennobling  in  the 
degree  that  it  is  made  serviceable  to  the  spirit  of  hu¬ 
manity. 

The  aim  of  the  landscapist  should  be,  firstly,  to 
understand  its  spirit,  and,  secondly,  to  know  its  details. 
No  accuracy  in  the  rendering  of  the  latter  will  redeem 
obtuseness  towards  the  former.  He  may  be  able  to 
present  a  series  of  detached  parts,  but  the  harmonious 
whole  will  be  wanting.  This  we  find  to  be  the  general 
character  of  landscape  painting  of  ancient  and  modern 
tunes. 

What  are  the  general  elements  of  landscape?  or 
perhaps  it  would  be  more  significant  to  inquire,  of 
what  a  landscape  is  made  up  ?  Like  an  individual,  it 
has  two  characters :  the  one  partaking  of  moral,  the 
other  of  physical  qualities. 

The  former  includes  infinity,  power,  variety,  sin¬ 
cerity,  and  repose.  The  latter,  form  and  color,  as 
rendered  in  the  three  general  divisions  of  sky,  earth, 
and  water,  with  their  numberless  details.  The  two 
are  combined  by  a  principle  we  call  unity.  It  is  the 
keystone  of  Nature,  and  expresses  the  harmony  of  the 
Divine  mind,  as  rendered  in  creation.  Without  unity 


102 


ART-  HINTS. 


there  would  be  chaos  in  the  natural  world.  If  we 
would  escape  discord  in  Art,  we  must  study  this  prin¬ 
ciple  as  the  primary  element  of  success.  Yet  there  is 
none  oftener  overlooked,  owing  to  the  error  of  artists 
in  commencing  in  detail,  and  hitting  upon  general 
principles,  as  if  by  accident,  instead  of  making  them¬ 
selves  familiar  with  principles  first  and  rendering  detail 
subservient  to  them,  as  is  the  law  of  nature.  Undoubt¬ 
edly  it  will  appear  a  work  of  supererogation  for  me  to 
refer  to  principles  so  simple  and  so  easily  understood. 
But  it  is  because  they  are  so  simply  and  so  easily 
understood,  that  they  are  so  frequently  forgotten  in  the 
apparently  more  difficult  management  of  detail.  No 
success  in  this  will  redeem  their  violation.  I  wish  to 

impress  upon  the  public  the  primary  artistic  truth  that 

* 

all  work  which  is  not  founded  in  unity,  that  is,  the  fit 
connection  of  all  parts  to  a  perfect  whole,  is  false,  and 
should  be  cast  aside,  as  tares  from  wheat.  We  can 
only  attain  a  nice  consciousness  of  unity  by  a  faithful 
study  of  Nature.  Hence  the  importance  of  under¬ 
standing  how  the  landscape  is  made  up,  if  we  would 
judge  correctly  of  Art. 

The  impressions  of  landscape  are  twofold  :  firstly, 
as  a  perfect  whole,  or  unity ;  ■  secondly,  as  to  its  parts 
or  separate  beauties. 

The  principle  which  most  powerfully  affects  the 
mind  is  infinity.  I  say  principle,  because  I  must 
reserve  the  better  term,  quality,  to  designate  another 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  103 

necessity  of  art.  Infinity  impresses  the  mind  from  its 
mystery.  We  cannot  compass  it,  knowing  that,  how¬ 
ever  far  the  eye  reaches  there  are  space  and  objects 
beyond.  Suppose  that  the  landscape  was  actually 
bounded  by  the  horizon,  would  we  not  feel  that  it 
mocked  us  by  its  pettiness  ?  But  how  it  exalts  and 
stimulates  thought  as  the  eye  ranges  over  plain  and 
hill  until  it  rests  on  distant  mountain  tops,  sharp  and 
flat  against  the  horizon,  while  far  beyond  we  look  into 
atmospherical  space  that  suggests  a  thousand  repe¬ 
titions  of  nature’s  variety  from  what  comes  within 
the  actual  vision.  That  which  we  do  -not  see  affects 
the  mind  with  a  more  subtle  pleasure  than  what"  we 
do,  because  imagination  clothes  the  scene  from  her 
own  rich  store  of  mystery.  There  is  a  higher  source 
of  joy  in  the  revelation  it  imparts  of  power.  We  feel 
the  sublimity  of  the  ocean  more  in  its  heaving  im¬ 
mensity  as  it  drops  from  our  view  beneath  the  horizon, 
than  in  the  dash  and  roar  of  the  breakers  at  our  feet. 
But  in  no  shape  is  infinity  more  powerfully  impressed 
upon  the  mind  than  by  the  atmosphere  with  its  sunset 
drapery  of  clouds.  Through  them  the  eye  pierces,  as 
through  the  windows  of  heaven,  blazing  with  gold  and 
radiant  with  celestial  rays  shooting  towards  the  zenith 
their  gradually-fading  hues  of  purple,  orange,  red, 
and  intermingling  grey,  in  changeful  flashes  of  glory, 
like  the  far-off  fluttering  of  a  seraph’s  wings.  As  the 
vision  shrinks  from  a  radiance  too  powerful  for  its 


104 


ART-HINTS. 


mortal  strength,  night  spreads  her  welcome  mantle 
over  the  scene,  leading  the  eye  onward,  to  repose,  in 
the  cold  blue  of  the  vault  above,  through  which  star 
after  star  shoots  its  silvery  light,  each  a  revelation  of 
another  world,  born  as  it  were  into  existence  to  pro¬ 
claim  to  humanity  the  infinity  of  their  common  Author. 
In  such  watching  the  mind  feels  the  full  force  of  sub¬ 
limity  in  its  longings  to  comprehend  mysteries  placed 
so  infinitely  above  its  power. 

Another  moral  feature  of  nature  which  takes  deep 
hold  of  the  heart  is  its  perfect  repose,  when  seen  from 
lofty  heights,  and  indeed  which  pervades  all  landscape 
not ‘directly  under  the  jarring  influence  of  man,  or  the 
strife  of  elements.  Even  these  exceptions  are  but 
partial,  depending  upon  their  nearness  for  effects  con¬ 
trary  to  those  principles  of  art  which  do  not  permit 
violent  action. 

In  its  highest  flight  Art  can  only  suggest  motion. 
Those  artists  who  try  to  represent  it  are  guilty  of  an 
artistic  solecism.  They  can,  however,  render  it,  as 
commencing  or  finished,  the  threatening  gesture,  but 
not  the  descending  blow ;  the  intended,  but  not  the 
actual  movement ;  the  effects,  but  not  the  action  itself ; 
a  fallen  stone,  with  the  consequent  injury,  but  not  a 
falling  stone.  Such  representations  violate  good  taste, 
because  they  break  natural  laws  by  making  immovable 
— as  must  result  in  Art — a  thing  in  motion.  Conse¬ 
quently  we  perceive  a  painted  or  sculptured  falsehood. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  105 

This  affects  good  taste  as  painfully  as  a  lie  does  the 
moral  man.  But,  as  I  have  observed,  we  may 
legitimately  suggest  motion,  as  in  running  water  by 
its  ripples,  a  wind  by  the  direction  given  to  all 
flexible  objects  on  which  it  operates,  and  in  animated 
nature  by  the  natural  position  which  hints  at  the 
coming  or  completed  action.  It  would  never  do  in 
representing  a  man  walking  to  leave  one  foot  sus¬ 
pended  in  the  air ;  yet  we  continually  see  artists  of 
repute,  as  the  world  judges,  guilty  of  infractions  of  the 
laws  of  art  as  gross  as  the  above  example. 

Any  one  may  satisfy  himself  of  the  deep  repose  of 
nature  by  walking  out  into  the  landscape  and  looking 
at  it  as  a  whole.  It  is  not  the  stillness  of  death,  for 
every  object  is  significant  of  life  and  enjoyment.  In 
this  repose  there  is  more  feeling  of  the  deep,  unsearch¬ 
able  Will  of  its  Maker  than  in  any  other  feature. 
“  Let  there  be  light,  •  and  there  was  light.”  Such 
is  the  spirit ;  a  breath  of  Omnipotence,  and  we  have 
before  us  the  earth  in  all  its  beauty  and  glory. 

I  never  felt  more  powerfully  this  unutterable  silence 
of  nature  than  once,  upon  a  tropical  mountain  at  an 
elevation  of  nearly  fourteen  thousand  feet  above  the 
sea.  It  was  Mauna  Kea,  of  the  Hawaiian  Islands. 
Slowly  and  for  upwards  of  a  day  had  I  been  ascending 
its  northern  slope,  passing  gradually  from  the  limits  of 
torrid  vegetation  to  the  more  stinted  growth  of  the 
temperate  region  ;  until,  getting  beyond  all  its  pro- 


10G 


ART-HINTS. 


ductions,  I  emerged  into  wastes  of  volcanic  rock  and 
cinders  that  led  to  beds  of  perennial  snow.  At  this  ele¬ 
vation  we  experienced  a  rain-storm  :  the  clouds  gathered 
at  first  about  us  black  and  muttering,  but  descending 
the  mountain-side,  rested  at  about  six  thousand  feet 
above  its  base,  and  spread  over  the  plain,  shutting  out 
from  view  every  object  that  recalled  man  or  his 
labors.  The  earth  was  eclipsed,  except  the  solitary 
point  on  which  we  stood.  This  arose  like  an  island 
from  the  sea  ;  a  solitary  beacon  of  earth  in  the  ocean 
of  infinity.  The  rain  poured  below,  for  we  could  at 
times  feel  that,  as  a  torn  cloud  let  through  a  glimpse 
of  the  valley  beneath.  But  for  most  of  the  time,  while 
the  earth  side  of  the  cloudy  mass  was  black  and 
immersed  in  gloom,  the  upper  side,  on  which  our  eyes 
rested,  turned  heavenward,  reflected  a  scene  of  glory 
such  as  I  shall  never  forget.  However  fast  the  clouds 
may  have  been  moving,  their  forms  remained  the 
same  ;  gorgeous  masses  of  vapor,  that  seemed  like 
firmaments  themselves,  on  which  the  sunlight  sparkled 
with  ever-shifting  hues,  disclosing  untold  treasures  of 
Nature’s  art.  It  is  seldom  that  there  is  an  opportunity 
to  look  down  upon  clouds  of  great  expanse. 

The  storm  died  away,  and  we  continued  to  ascend. 
Before  sunset  the  summit  was  reached.  A  more 
glorious  realization  of  the  wondrous  beauty  of  Nature 
in  her  solitary  places  it  never  fell  to  my  lot  before  or 
since  to  witness.  Above  us,  for  a  few  hundred  feet 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  107 

arose  peaks  which  once  crested  active  volcanoes,  but 
now  stood  dark  and  gloomy  in  the  departing  day, 
except  where  the  fast-coming  twilight  reflected  upon 
spots  of  snow,  which  glistened  on  their  blackened 
surfaces,  like  owl’s  eyes  from  out  of  the  bosom  of  night. 
Around  us  was  entire  desolation.  Nature’s  fires  had 
burnt  the  very  heart  out  of  the  r^cks  themselves, 
leaving  nothing  but  mournful  cinders,  and  large 
masses  of  basaltic  stone,  thrown  in  careless  heaps 
about,  as  if  here,  too,  the  Titans  had  assaulted  heaven. 
Far  away  stretched  an  ocean  horizon,  as  calm,  as  it 
passed  from  view  in  scarcely  perceptible  curve,  as 
though  God  had  just  spoken  “  Peace,  be  still !” 

On  its  surface  lay  floating  other  islands  in  a  con¬ 
tinuous  chain  towards  the  west,  peak  disappearing 
behind  peak,  misty  and  purple  in  the  dim  distance, 
until  they,  too,  sank  into  the  horizon  with  the  faintest 
glimpse  of  recognition,  as  if  beckoning  the  spectator  to 
launch  out  with  them  on  that  silent  sea,  and  follow  the 
departing  sun.  The  entire  side  of  the  mountain  on 
which  we  were  was  in  deep  shadow.  An  immense 
plain,  ploughed  up  into  threatening  ravines  by  lava- 
currents,  but  green  with  forests  and  dotted  with  dead 
volcanoes,  like  sepulchral  monuments  in  a  graveyard, 
lay  between  me  and  Mauna  Kea.  This  mountain,  a 
firmament  by  itself,  which  arose  opposite  some  forty 
miles  off,  was  so  clear  in  the  sinking  sun  that  pene¬ 
trated  its  cavernous  sides  and  lighted  up  its  dome-like 


108 


ART-HINTS. 


crater  with  its  circumference  of  twenty-seven  miles, 
that  it  seemed  as  if  I  could  count  its  chasms  and 
witness  its  internal  throes.  The  intervening  valley, 
for  the  slope  of  Mauna  Kea  was  so  gentle  as  to  make 
it  difficult  to  decide  whether  plain  or  valley  lay  be¬ 
tween  me  and  that  mountain,  was  shrouded  in  gloom, 
giving  out  only  darker  spots  of  color  from  its  uni¬ 
versal  blackness,  like  the  reflections  in  a  well, 
exaggerating  its  depth,  and  making  its  secrets  impe¬ 
netrable.  The  southern  side  of  Mauna  Kea  fell  so 
abruptly  that  no  base  could  be  seen.  It  was,  as  it 
were  a.  precipice  more  than  two  miles  high.  Farther 
to  the  right,  Hulalai,  a  volcano  which  could  swallow 
Vesuvius  at  a  gulp,  slept,  forgetful  of  its  former  fires, 
a  monument  of  desolation  in  a  region  it  had  so  ravaged 
in  the  days  of  its  wrath,  that  even  now  no  green  thing 
could  touch  its  sides  and  live.  Day  departed,  gilding 
even  this  scene  with  loveliness,  and  winning  rich  color 
from  out  of  the  region  of  death  itself,  until  night  set 
her  seal  of  greater  mystery  upon  all  things,  and  turned 
the  thoughts  upwards  to  its  solemn  beauty.  There 
were  two  others  with  me,  but  they  slept.  The  repose 
of  Nature  was  complete  ;  not  a  sound  broke  upon  that 
still  air ;  the  silence  hushed  one’s  breath ;  and  yet 
amid  it  all  there  arose  a  harmony  that,  unnoticed  by 
the  ear,  struck  upon  the  heart,  and  bade  us  rejoice, 
“  for  it  was  good  to  be  here.” 

By  sincerity  I  mean  that  feeling  of  Nature  by  which 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  109 

we  know  that  she  has  a  purpose  in  all  that  she  does, 
and  has  constructed  nothing  in  vain.  Unlike  the 
artificial  landscape,  we  perceive  that  she  works  in 
earnest ;  everything  is  complete  in  itself  only  as  a  part 
of  the  whole ;  her  proportions  are  true  and  her  laws 
just.  She  does  exactly  what  she  intends,  and  nothing 
more.  She  never  puts  us  off  with  show  for  substance. 
It  is  only  by  understanding  her  meaning  that  the 
artist  himself  can  be  sincere. 

Variety  applies  to  both  the  moral  and  physical 
aspect  of  Nature.  In  the  former  she  repeats  her  lessons 
in  numberless  ways,  never  wearying  of  well-doing ;  in 
the  latter  she  never  repeats  herself.  There  is  variety 
enough  of  physical  beauty  to  exhaust  all  the  genera¬ 
tions  of  life  to  know.  Every  line  has  its  mission  of 
pleasure  to  some  eye,  and  so  of  every  color ;  their 
combinations  are  infinite.  Without  referring  to  the 
countless  tribes  of  animal  life,  the  unseen  inhabitants 
of  every  drop  of  water,  and  the  very  dust  beneath  our 
feet,  the  tenants  even  of  our  own  bodies,  without  num¬ 
bering  the  species  of  the  vegetable  creation  with  all 
their  diversities  of  shape  and  hue,  let  us  simply  turn 
our  eyes  to  the  landscape,  and  look  at  it  steadily  as  a 
whole,  until  its  general  parts  become  visible.  Those 
distant  hills  that  seem  lost  in  purple  haze  or  flattened 
into  plain  surfaces,  open  their  sides  and  discover  cur¬ 
vature  upon  curvature,  form  after  form,  trees,  valleys, 
and  streams,  mysteriously  concealing  yet  revealing 


110 


ART-HINTS. 


themselves  when  sought ;  bright  spots  here,  a  flash  of 
color  there,  and  shapes  melting  into  other  shapes, 
or  dying  away  into  the  distant  air.  Sameness 
does  not  exist.  There  is  no  barren  paint  as  on  libelled 
canvas,  but  variety  which  mocks  the  eye  while  it 
attracts  the  mind.  No  violent  contrasts  perplex  the 
vision,  yet  variety  is  so  manifest  that  you  feel  rather 
than  trace  it ;  gradations  of  form  and  color  are  so 
subtle  that  all  is  lost  in  harmony,  yet  it  is  all  there ; 
rock  and  chasm,  brook  and  cascade,  the  gentle  slope 
and  abrupt  precipice,  hut  and  hamlet,  grove  and  dell, 
man’s  art  and  Nature’s  profusion ;  all  this  is  to  be 
half  rendered,  half- suggested,  if  the  artist  would  work 
as  his  great  teacher  works. 

The  province  of  unity  is  to  bring  together,  each  in 
its  proper  degree  and  place,  all  the  moral  and  natural 
features  of  the  art-landscape,  so  that  the  mind  shall  be 
satisfied  that  it  is  a  complete  harmonious  whole,  and 
not  a  collection  of  parts  or  motives  put  together  at 
random,  or  without  inquiry  into  their  relative  fitness. 
Such  pictures  jar  upon  sensitive  tastes,  and  are  an 
offence  to  Art.  The  artist  must,  however,  have  a 
natural  feeling  for  Nature’s  harmony,  for  though  culti¬ 
vation  will  increase  his  sensibility,  it  will  not  create  it. 
In  judging,  then,  of  Art,  the  first  inquiry  should  be, 
does  it  express  the  spirit  of  what  it  pretends  to  repre¬ 
sent  ?  If  a  landscape  be  lacking  in  the  essential  prin¬ 
ciples  of  infinity,  power,  repose,  sincerity,  and  variety, 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  Ill 

properly  combined,  so  as  to  give  what  is  meant  by 
unity,  bestow  upon  it  no  second  glance.  They  are  the 
first  qualifications  of  spiritual  truth  in  this  branch  of 
Art,  and  in  a  certain  degree  of  all  Art ;  unless  we  are 
guided  by  these  primary  principles,  we  shipwreck  taste 
in  the  outset.  Their  absence  may  not  prevent  one 
from  being  a  correct  judge  of  drawing,  or  detract  from 
his  ability  to  decide  upon  the  right  folds  and  color  of 
drapery.  He  may  at  first  glance  set  us  right  as  to 
the  exact  hues  of  flesh,  and  all  the  niceties  of  gloss  and 
subtleties  of  finish  of  detached  parts ;  but  unless  he 
has  a  heart  to  feel  the  nobler  truths  of  Art,  his  know¬ 
ledge  is  no  better  than  that  of  a  parrot,  mere  words 
without  meaning;  while  his  pleasure,  like  that  vain 
bird’s,  lies  solely  in  imitation. 


112 


ART-HINTS. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  SECONDARY  TRUTHS  OF  THE  LANDSCAPE — FORM  AND 
COLOR. 

We  now  come  to  consider  the  secondary  truths  of  the 
landscape  as  applied  to  Art,  or  those  which  appeal 
more  directly  to  our  external  senses  through  form  and 
color,  especially  as  exhibited  under  the  general 
aspects  of  sky,  earth,  and  water.  These  truths  are 
secondary  solely  in  reference  to  the  moral  character  of 
the  landscape  as  referred  to  in  Chapter  VIII.  With¬ 
out  a  thorough  knowledge  of  these  component  parts  of 
the  landscape,  it  will  be  a  vain  effort  to  attempt  to 
portray  its  spirit;  indeed,  all  the  failure  with  which 
the  world  is  filled  in  the  higher  character  of  Art,  is 
accompanied  by  equal  inability  to  render  the  broad 
effects  of  Nature’s  masses,  so  that,  excepting  only  a  few 
great  names,  we  are,  as  yet,  without  even  the  rudi¬ 
ments  of  landscape- art.  This  ignorance  arises  from  the 
neglect  of  the  study  of  Nature  as  a  whole  for  her  ex¬ 
pression  in  detail.  Too  much  attention  cannot  indeed 
be  paid  to  the  latter  after  the  difficulties  of  the  former' 


ARCHITECT!! RE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  113 

are  overcome  ;  but  until  the  artist  has  learned  to  render 
the  former  effectively,  he  should  not  attempt  landscape, 
for  no  superficial  dexterity  in  form  will  compensate  for 
the  absence  of  substance. 

The  necessity  of  accurate  design,  or  outlining  of 
objects,  is  so  thoroughly  impressed  upon  modern  Art, 
that  it  calls  for  no  other  notice  than  the  general  caution 
not  to  neglect  the  more  important  truths  in  pursuit  of 
manual  dexterity.  Correctness  of  form  is  indeed 
essential  as  the  basis  of  expression.  It  is  the  skeleton 
upon  which  the  body  is  built.  If  the  skeleton  be 
wanting  in  parts,  or  limbs  in  proportion,  the  body  is 
deformed.  A  soul  may  manifest  itself  as  nobly 
through  a  malformed  body  as  through  an  Apollo,  but 
not  so  agreeably.  The  contrast  between  the  treasure 
and  the  casket,  no  doubt  impresses  the  relative  pro¬ 
perties  of  each  the  more  forcibly  upon  the  spectator. 
This,  I  take  it,  is  the  secret  of  much  of  the  effect  pro¬ 
duced  by  the  early  religious  painters.  We  are  asto¬ 
nished  to  perceive  so  much  feeling  combined  with  such 
disregard  to  form,  and  we  respect,  accordingly,  the 
artist  whose  first  aim  was  the  highest  truth.  The  real 
enjoyment  of  art  is,  however,  in  proportion  to  its  entire 
truth.  Mere  form  alone  does  not  embrace  it ;  com¬ 
bined  with  light  and  shade  resulting  in  cliiaro-oscuro,  it 
does,  however,  suggest  to  the  mind  all  its  truth.  This 
is  emphatically  true  of  sculpture.  We  see  it  in  its 
perfection  in  the  daguerreotype  and  photograph  ;  both 


114 


ART-HINTS. 


are  facsimiles  of  nature’s  forms,  perfect  in  the  minutest 
details  of  light  and  shadow,  but  neither  gives  us  real 
pleasure  ;  it  requires  the  force  of  associative  friendship 
to  reconcile  one  to  the  portrait,  and  the  photographic 
views  are  valued  simply  as  studies.  It  must  be  ac¬ 
knowledged  that  form  without  color  is  the  stronger 
intellectual  truth  in  Art.  It  appeals  more  to  mental 
cultivation  than  natural  feeling.  The  savage  or  un¬ 
cultivated  mind  would  look  with  comparative  indiffer¬ 
ence  upon  the  Milesian  Venus,  but  display  a  scm-let 
cloak,  and  either  would  be  enraptured.  I  make, 
therefore,  the  distinction  between  form  and  color,  the 
difference  between  reason  and  impulse :  the  one  spe¬ 
cially  calls  for  admiration,  the  other  moves  our  feelings. 
Both  are  requisite  to  perfect  beauty,  though  either 
may  exist  apart,  and  triumph  in  its  own  sphere  ;  it  is, 
therefore,  folly  to  dispute  upon  their  relative  impor¬ 
tance. 

Destroy  color  and  our  hearts  would  be  chilled ; 
obliterate  form  and  the  result  would  be  impulsive 
pleasure  without  knowledge.  Form  is  permanent, 
color  varies.  The  one  has  reference  to  the  absolute 
or  necessary,  the  other  to  the  pleasurable.  We  may 
as  well  argue  our  preferences  for  the  love  or  wisdom 
of  God.  We  could  not  exist  without  both.  So  with 
these  two  qualities ;  God  has  bestowed  them  for  our 
use  and  enjoyment.  When  we  can  decide  that  Om¬ 
nipotence  is  more  worthy  of  worship  for  one  attribute 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  1J5 

than  another,  then  we  may  say  of  His  gifts,  this  is 
more  truthful  or  bounteous  than  its  fellow. 

If  any  distinction  could  be  drawn,  I  should  say  that 
the  correct  feeling  for  color  is  far  rarer  than  know¬ 
ledge  of  form.  But  few  artists  have  ever  professed  it 
in  its  entire  subtlety,  while  for  form  there  is  not  much 
danger  of  the  world’s  going  amiss.  Indeed,  the  artists 
that  have  understood  the  beauty  and  sanctity  of  color 
are  so  rare  that  but  few  persons  have  ever  had  an 
opportunity  of  appreciating  its  full  artistic  power.  This 
is  equally  true  of  taste  in  individuals ;  while  all  have 
instinctive  impulses  towards  color,  not  many  can  claim 
sufficient  cultivation  to  he  content  to  be  guided  in  their 
preferences  exclusively  by  the  harmonious  gradations 
with  which  Nature  tints  her  works. 

Color  is  to  the  eye  what  music  is  to  the  ear.  Their 
appreciation  depends  not  so  much  upon  a  knowledge 
of  their  science  or  chemical  properties,  as  upon  a  feel¬ 
ing  within  us  that  responds  to  their  enchantments,  or 
manifests  itself  in  spontaneous  melody.  If  a  nation, 
like  the  Tuscans  for  example,  is  apt  at  catching  and 
repeating  the  most  striking  passages  of  music  which  it 
hears  at  operas  or  concerts,  so  that  the  streets  are  con¬ 
stantly  echoing  to  favorite  airs,  taken  up  and  repeated 
among  all  classes,  from  the  boot-black  to  the  learned 
amateur^  it  is  at  once  set  down  as  possessing  genius 
for  music.  This  is  not  so.  The  feeling  which  prompts 
to  this  delight  in  the  repetition  of  prominent  and  strik- 


116 


ART-HINTS. 


ing  portions  of  operatic  music,  is  akin  to  the  untutored 
impulses  of  the  common  mind  in  its  choice  of  colors. 
The  love  for  color  is  innate,  and  closely  allied  to  har¬ 
mony  in  music.  Some  individuals,  and  even  nations 
to  a  certain  degree,  possess  naturally  a  correct  taste 
both  for  music  and  color.  When  a  race,  as  do  the 
Sicilians,  and  in  an  inferior  degree  the  Africans, 
composes  its  Own  ballads  and  songs,  improvising  its 
melodies  from  the  heart  with  bird-like  freedom,  it 
may  be  truly  said  to  possess  a  genius  for  music.  Those 
nations  that  are  most  susceptible  to  the  «harms  of 
music  generally  possess  an  equally  inherent  taste  for 
the  harmony  of  colors,  which  they  display  in  pictu¬ 
resque  costume  and  love  for  flowers. 

Among  northern  nations  the  taste  for  music  is  the 
result  of  cultivation.  Perhaps  no  cities  possess  a  more 
correct  intellectual  appreciation  of  the  science  of  music, 
that  is  to  say,  more  cultivated  tastes,  than  London  and 
Boston,  but  the  knowledge  is  confined  to  a  favored 
few.  These,  however,  give  the  law  to  the  many ;  so 
that  there  is  more  hope  of  a  diffusion  of  a  correct  taste 
from  these  limited  centres,  than  from  the  parrot-like 
fondness  for  imitation  of  the  Tuscans,  or  the  noisy 
efforts  of  the  French. 

Music  to  he  in  correct  taste,  requires  the  same  unity 
of  variety  as  painting,  not  only  of  notes,  but  of  its  ac¬ 
cessories.  Vocal  and  instrumental  harmony  are  (he 
aims  of  the  ouera  in  the  expression  of  sentiment  and 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  117 

passion.  All  other  considerations  should  be  subdued 
to  the  music.  But  how  do  we  find  the  opera  in  gene¬ 
ral  ?  In  Paris,  music  is  made  secondary  to  scenic 
effect.  The  eye  must  be  captivated  before  the  ear. 
The  French  are  successful  in  this  respect  before  all 
other  nations,  and  give  us  stage-illusions  in  their  most 
perfect  character ;  but  in  doing  this  they  sacrifice  to  a 
great  extent  their  professed  object.  In  Italy,  the  opera 
has  degenerated  into  vulgar  show  and  exaggerated 
action.  The  singers  destroy  all  unity  of  form  with 
music,  by  violent  and  uncalled-for  gestures  and  absurd 
grimaces,  in  short,  burlesquing  harmony  and  making 
sentiment  ridiculous.  Scenic  effects  have  become  the 
merest  claptraps,  got  up  to  please  the  vulgar  mind, 
and  are  out  of  all  keeping  with  the  true  motives  of 
harmony.  The  most  popular  pieces  are  those  which, 
like  the  4  Prophet,’  give  an  artificial  sunrise,  which 
however  well  mechanically  produced  ends  in  absurdity 
by  being  repeatedly  encored,  so  that  the  real  attraction 
of  this  noble  opera  to  the  Italians  is  the  hoisting 
and  rehoisting  of  a  lantern  behind  transparent  paper. 
Then,  too,  the  favorite  music  is  that  which  is  the 
loudest  in  expression  or  most  startling  in  contrasts. 
In  short,  music  in  the  popular  mind,  the  world  over, 
stands  in  the  same  degraded  position  as  painting.  The 
nice  gradations  of  sound  and  color  with  an  accord  of 
action  and  form,  all  material  detail  made  subservient 
to  the  spirit,  each  part  keeping  its  proper  position  in 


118 


ART-HINTS. 


regard  to  the  whole,  which  should  be  a  complete  unity, 
is  not  even  attempted.  Like  painting,  also,  modern 
music  is  pitched  upon  so  high  a  key  that  its  power 
soon  exhausts  itself.  We  have  mainly  a  series  of 
painful  efforts  to  overcome  the  limits  of  physical 
nature,  instead  of  those  soul-subduing  melodies  which 
steal  into  our  hearts,  we  know  not  and  care  not  how, 
and  excite  only  to  make  us  feel  the  enchantments  of 
harmony.  The  striking  similarity  of  the  principles 
that  govern  music  and  painting  has  been  my  motive 
for  thus  Connecting  them  by  their  kindred  tie  of  unity, 
in  the  hope  that  it  may  awaken  taste  to  a  more  careful 
consideration  of  an  element  which'  enters  so  largely 
into  the  pleasures  of  existence. 

The  gi’eat  harmonies  of  nature  are  worked  out  in 
colors,  with  gradations  so  subtle  and  interminglings 
so  refined  that  the  eye  cannot  trace  but  only  feel  their 
effects.  The  real  power  of  color  depends  upon  this 
imperceptible  blending  of  hues,  which  come  to  us  like 
the  soft  tones  of  human  speech  or  the  subdued  notes  of 
music,  penetrating  our  inmost  nature  with  a  joy  in¬ 
effable.  Does  anyone  doubt  this  ?  Let  him  watch  for 
one  of  those  sunsets,  rare  indeed,  but  which  all  men 
see  at  times,  when  the  heavens  glow  with  celestial 
beauty,  and  the  western  horizon  is  resplendent  with 
colors  which  no  language  can  portray.  How  does  he 
feel  before  that  burst  of  effulgence,  in  the  sight  of 
which  gold  is  impure,  and  precious  stones  lustreless? 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  119 

Is  his  rapture  noisy,  or  does  he  gaze  in  unspeakable 
admiration,  his  whole  being  drinking  in  harmony  and 
uplifted  in  thankfulness  and  wonder  to  Him  who  has 
but  to  breathe  and  beauty  overspreads  the  universe ! 
But  he  has  not  yet  exhausted  its  power.  If  he  would 
see  the  strength  of  that  glorious  vision,  let  him  invert 
his  head  and  look  at  the  skies.  Form  is  lost,  and  the 
vivid,  solemn,  triumphant  splendor  of  color,  such  as  he 
never  experienced  before,  meets  his  gaze.  Tell  me  now 
if  beauty  cannot  exist  without  definite  form  ?  Indeed, 
the  perfect  expression  of  color  is  only  rendered  as  in  a 
sunset  seen  in  this  position,  in  which,  under  its  over- 
’  powering  harmony;  form  is  wholly  extinguished. 

By  sky  in  Art  is  more  properly  meant  atmosphere. 
Earth  includes  rock,  vegetation,  and  whatever  form  its 
surface  assumes  in  masses. 

Which  of  the  three,  sky,  earth,  or  water,  as  a  whole, 
has  been  most  naturally  rendered  by  Art  it  would  be 
difficult  to  decide.  None  of  them  have  as  yet  been 
as  earnestly  and  affectionately  treated  as  their  impor¬ 
tance  demands.  Certain  artists  have  given  us  tolerably 
faithful  images  of  their  separate  features,  such  as  still 
water,  pleasant  fields,  or  a  serene  sky  ;  but  these  ele¬ 
mentary  divisions  of  nature  in  their  complete  expres¬ 
sion  yet  await  an  interpreter  in  painting. 

The  particular  character  of  physical  nature,  as  a 
whole  or  in  detail,  that  which  distinguishes  one  object 
from  another  as  its  own  special  property,  is  called  in 


120 


ART-HINTS. 


Art  its  quality.  The  chief  quality  of  w^ter  is 
liquidity ;  of  earth,  in  distinction,  dryness ;  of  stone, 
hardness ;  and  of  air,  transparency.  That  which 
unites  qualities  into  one  harmonious  mass  of  color, 
each  tint,  light,  or  shadow,  subdued  to  its  proper  gra¬ 
dation  or  unison  in  respect  to  the  effect  as  a  whole,  is 
called  “  tone.”  These  two  are  the  key-notes  of 
painters.  Without  a  proper  comprehension  of  both, 
their  labors  are  as  unknown  tongues.1 

In  sky  the  first  effect  that  we  should  seek  is  space.  ■ 
Unfortunately  it  is  that  which  is  least  often  given. 
Tricks  of  chiaro-oscuro  will  bring  objects  out  of  a 
canvas,  but  that  art  which  takes  the  eye  in,  and  bids  us 
feel  the  quality  of  an  atmosphere,  warm,  transparent, 
alive,  infinite,  the  tremulous  movement  of  the  vapory 

1  A  valuable  auxiliary  to  the  acquisition  of  correct  tone  and  the 
general  gradation  of  colors  is  to  be  had  in  a  small  capvas  scale,  on 
■which  the  different  degrees  of  light  are  represented.  Its  form  is 
thus.  |  I.  |  2.  |  3.  |  4.  |  5.  |  ,  each  extreme  being  pure  white  (1)  and 
pure  black  (5),  between  them  we  have  three  degrees,  viz.,  half 
light  (2),  middle  tint  (3),  half  dark  (4).  It  is  all  important 
to  a  painter  not  to  exhaust  his  power  of  light  and  shadow. 
He  must,  at  the  best,  work  on  a  scale  far  below  that  of  Nature, 
for  to  attempt  to  rival  her  in  light  and  shadow,  would  end  only,  as 
we  often  see,  in  the  most  egregious  failure.  The  object  of  this 
scale  is  to  keep  himself  upon  the  key  on  which  he  works,  reserving 
the  extremes  of  light  and  shade,  indicated  by  it,  for  his  strongest 
effects,  which,  if  he  would  give  value  to  the  whole,  must  be 
sparingly  used.  With  such  a  guide,  a  feeble  colorist  may  be 
strengthened,  while  to  the  best,  it  is  of  great  practical  use.  The 
finest  colorists  I  know,  keep  it  in  constant  referenda,  so  that  the 
harmony  of  their  works  is  never  violated  by  abrupt  or  irrelevant 
transitions. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  121 

air,  or  the  clearness  of  the  cloudless  sky,  into  the  abyss 
of  which  the  sight  may  gaze  until  the  eyeballs  ache 
to  bursting  and  not  find  a  spot  on  which  to  rest,  has 
never  been  more  than  suggested  by  a  few  artists. 
Yet  it  seems  to  me  that  the  sky  is  particularly  sus¬ 
ceptible  of  successful  treatment,  from  its  great  depend- 
ance  upon  color.  Clouds  having  no  bodily  shape  are 
to  be  drawn  in  color.  If  its  gradations  are  jnanaged 
as  Nature  manages  hers,  imitating  her  subtle  transitions 
and  aerial  touchings,  avoiding  loading  the  canvas  with 
positive  or  opaque  colors,  alternating  and  scumbling, 
not  by  scores  of  times  but  by  hundreds,  and  more  with 
the  fingers  than  the  brush,  something  approaching 
heaven’s  handiwork  may  be  given.  It  is  not  my  object, 
however,  to  treat  of  Art  technically.  I  write  merely  to 
hint  its  general  principles,  more  as  a  guide  for  the 
taste  of  the  general  reader  than  in  the  vain  hope  to 
profit  those  whose  lives  have  been  mainly  devoted  to 
the  study  of  art-material.  Each  artist  has  his  fa¬ 
vorite  methods,  the  result  of  his  experience.  There¬ 
fore,  what  may  .appear  to  me  as  worthy  of  experiment, 
may  after  all  be  but  the  approved  practice  of  hundreds. 
Still  in  cloud  effects,  aerial  perspective,  and,  in  fact, 
in  earth  and  water  generally,  where  breadth  and  depth 
are  to  be  given,  I  think  that  the  careful  study  of  the 
priifciples  by  which  Nature  produces  her  qualities  of 
light,  will  lead  to  a  new  era  of  landscape  art. 

Hitherto,  with  a  few  partial  exceptions  to  be  after- 

G 


122 


ART-HINTS. 


wards  mentioned,  we  have  had  for  sky,  flat,  hard  sur¬ 
faces  of  opaque  colour,  coming  forward  of  anything 
else  in  the  picture,  and  often  firmer  than  the  rock 
beneath.  Indeed,  we  feel  that  we  should  get  such 
paintings  nearer  right  by  inverting  them.  Then  the 
earth  would  have  something  firm  to  rest  upon,  unless 
the  artist  has  unfortunately  attempted  water,  and 
libelled  that  into  a  black  and  glutinous  mass,  like  the 
seas  of  Backhuysen.  We  can  walk  dryshod  over 
almost  all  the  water  ever  painted,  and  as  for  skies  they 
would  echo  the  strokes  of  a  hammer.  I  appeal  to  the 
galleries  of  Europe  for  the  truth  of  this  assertion. 
Who  in  painting  has  ever  taken  us  into  the  full  depths 
of  the  sky,  and  bade  us  soar  aloft  into  its  transparent 
greys  mingled  with  the  soft  tones  of  blue,  borne  on  the 
tender  wings  of  light  from  their  empyreal  home  ?  Who 
has  ever  more  than  suggested  the  cloud  forms  nearer 
earth ;  the  cirrus,  stratus,  and  cumulus  phantoms  of 
atmosphere,  tinged  with  mingled  blue,  orange,  purple, 
and  soft  crimson  or  tender  green,  robed  in  golden 
brightness  and  floating  in  transparency,  through  which 
the  eye  wanders  into  heaven’s  great  dome,  ever  seek¬ 
ing  rest  and  finding  it  only  in  gazing  deeper  and  yet 
deeper  into  infinity  ?  Who,  with  the  consciousness  of 
such  beauty  before  him,  does  not  turn  in  disgust  from 
the  opaque  skies  of  Art  ? 

If  Art  has  fallen  so  far  below  rendering  the  sky, 
its  shortcomings  in  the  essential  qualities  of  water  are 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  123 

even  more  conspicuous.  A  view  loses  much  of  its 
beauty  without  water  to  contrast  with  and  reflect  its 
sky.  Much  of  the  enjoyment  of  the  art-landscape 
depends  upon  its  proper  introduction.  It  is  even  less 
difficult  to  render  than  the  sky.  The  reason  why  we 
see  so  little  real  water,  liquid,  shining,  still,  or  flow¬ 
ing,  something  that  you  may  float  in,  and  at  will  get 
beneath  its  surface  and  come  up  wet,  is,  I  take  it,  be¬ 
cause  artists  do  not  go  to  Nature  for  its  study.  They 
have  seen  the  sea  at  a  distance,  and  think  they  know 
it.  They  have  seen  a  river,  that  is,  they  have  boated 
upon  one,  and  think  they  know  that.  But  to  know  all 
the  glorious  features  of  water,  its  life  and  earnestness, 
buoyancy  and  restlessness,  its  wayward  humors,  and 
the  unutterable  things  that  lie  within  its  depths,  or  on 
its  truth-catching  surface,  mirroring  alike  the  beauty 
of  earth  and  sky,  and  mocking  them  with  their  own 
charms ;  to  feel  its  sublimity  as  the  foundations  of  the 
earth  tremble  beneath  surges,  whose  roar  overwhelms 
the  loud  thunder  of  heaven,  or  in  the  calm,  when  its 
bosom  heaves  with  the  gentleness  of  an  infant’s  breath, 
while  thought  vainly  seeks  to  compass  its  immensity, 
and  penetrate  beyond  that  mysterious  horizon  to  the 
alluring  shores  of  fancy’s  creation ;  to  know  and  feel 
all  this,  we  must  gaze  upon  it  as  we  would  upon  the 
face  of  our  heart’s  love,  jealous  lest  the  shadow  of  an 
emotion  should  escape  our  worshipping  eyes. 

He  who  has  spent  not  months  but  years  upon  the 


124 


ART-HINTS. 


ocean  alone  can  realize  its  power.  I  doubt  if  any 
artist  has  ever  attempted  to  render  the  entire  majesty 
of  a  storm,  not  such  as  lift  the  Atlantic’s  waves  into 
wild  confusion,  when  wind  and  water,  in  desperate 
struggle,  madden  nature,  and  make  sick  terrified  pas¬ 
sengers,  as  they  toss  and  groan  within  the  strong  ribs 
of  the  steam  leviathan,  that  safely  bears  them  through 
the  elemental  strife — these  are  indeed  storms — but  I 
mean  such  as  the  Pacific  can  make  us  feel  when  in  the 
full  might  of  her  ocean  wrath.  In  the  Atlantic  the 
contrasts  are  less  forcible.  Shorter  calms  and  more 
frequent  gales  are  the  rule,  the  effects  of  which  are,  of 
course,  much  the  same  in  every  latitude.  But  the 
balmy  breezes  of  the  Pacific,  as  they  drive  the  vessel 
joyously  over  its  broad  surface,  while  the  sunlit  waves 
toss  and  foam  and  sparkle  in  its  track,  lull  the  voyager 
more  often  into  a  treacherous  reliance  upon  its  smiles. 
By-and-by  the  wind  begins  to  fall,  the  vessel  lifts 
heavily  upon  the  water,  and  sinks  with  a  sullen  plunge 
into  its  liquid  bed,  as  the  sails  listlessly  flap  against 
the  masts  in  vain  effort  to  woo  the  spent  breeze.  For 
a  moment  they  belly  out  with  a  chance  puff;  then  all 
air  dies  away  again.  The  blocks  creak  harsh  remon¬ 
strance.  Wave  succeeds  wave,  each  feebler  than  the 
other ;  now  gently  breaking  and  foaming,  then,  before 
they  had  half  risen,  hopelessly  falling  back  like  a  dying 
man  attempting  to  sit  up.  Soon  the  ocean  becomes 
like  glass.  No  lights  now  dance  and  play  over  its 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  125 

surface ;  but  it  reflects  the  hot  sun  as  does  a  burnished 
mirror.  For  an  instant  the  slightest  perceptible  ripple, 
coming  and  going  like  the  tropical  bird  that  screams 
ominously  overhead,  whence  and  where  no  one  knows, 
breaks  the  universal  smoothness.  The  breeze-hope 
that  comes  with  it  is  not  more  fleeting  as  it  passes  by 
without  further  sign.  The  roll  and  pitch  of  the  vessel 
subside.  She  is  now  as  quiet  as  in  a  dock.  Occa¬ 
sionally  a  mysterious  swell  lifts  her,  and  she  sinks 
again  to  her  old  level  without  the  faintest  splash. 
As  her  weiget  makes  her  roll,  the  water  washes 
her  sides,  recoiling  hastily  from  the  heated  copper. 
Another  swell  passes  along,  so  fast  that  the  eye  wist¬ 
fully  follows  its  glassy  rise  as  it  loses  itself  on  the 
horizon,  while  the  wish  that  the  power  were  given  to 
go  with  it  involuntary  rises.  How  often  have  1 
watched  such  swells  with  envy  as  they  slid  from  under 
the  vessel  and  passed  on,  for  what  end  God  only  knew. 
Fancy  painted  them  as  dying  gasps  of  the  ocean,  from 
which  one  turns  despairingly  to  the  oozing  pitch  and  hot 
decks.  All  escape  from  their  burning  breath  becomes 
hopeless.  Motionless  sharks  bask  with  dull  eyes  in  the 
shade  of  the  hull.  No  living  thing  comes  near  them. 

Days  pass  thus,  each  hotter  than  its  predecessor. 
Nights  bring  no  relief,  except  that  the  orb  of  fire 
ceases  to  scorch  awhile.  The  heat  is,  for  all  that, 
none  the  less  consuming.  Every  morning  the  sun  rises 
in  the  same  cloudless  horizon  of  brass,  its  hot,  burning 


126 


ART-HINTS. 


beams  extinguishing  the  atmosphere’s  vitality,  slowly 
— oh!  how  slowly! — creeping  up  to  the  zenith,  still 
cloudless,  and  pouring  its  unobstructed  rays  upon  water 
and  vessel,  until  each  seems  to  writhe  and  crisp 
under  its  influence.  The  ocean  yields  no  moisture, 
but  radiates  heat  with  usury  to  its  giver,  while  the 
pitiless  air  remains  lambent  flame,  until  the  sun  “drops 
beneath  the  western  sky,  encircled  with  lurid  glare, 
and  promising  a  return  on  the  morrow  in  the  self-same 
chariots  of  flame.  There  is  no  hope  in  this.  Yes,  as 
the  sun  sets  on  some  evening,  when  you  count  the 
seconds,  impatient  for  its  final  dip,  black  formg  arise 
on  the  horizon.  They  take  the  shape  of  islands ;  there 
can  be  no  mistake.  Against  the  transient  twilight  the 
tall  palms  lift  their  broad  foliage.  We  can  almost  hear 
the  silvery  surf  as  it  rolls  musically  over  the  coral 
strand.  By  morning  we  shall  drift  to  where  there  are 
shade  and  bubbling  springs  of  fresh  water.  Ours  long 
since  has  become  coated  with  a  thick  viscous  film,  and 
impregnated  with  odors  that  make  one  giddy  and 
sick.  For  one  night  we  pant  less  hopelessly.  The 
morning  comes ;  not  a  speck  breaks  the  horizon  ;  those 
isles  were  cloud-land  ;  yet  there  is  something  to  be 
seen  on  the  sky ;  it  is  a  ship  becalmed  like  ourselves. 
No  !  strange  to  tell,  it  sails  upon  the  sky,  hull  upper¬ 
most !  We  watch  the  strange  apparition  until  it* 
discloses  only  our  phantom  selves  in  a  mirage.  Com¬ 
panionship  fails,  and  thus  we  are  left  alone,  “  a  painted 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  127 

ship  upon  a  painted  ocean.”  Who  can  give  this  unless 
he  has  experienced  it ! 

The  barometer,  which  has  remained  stationary  for 
months,  now  falls.  The  ocean  becomes  restless  with 
alarm.  Quick  swells  come  and  go.  The  air  assumes 
a  sickly  glare.  Strange  currents  of  wind  strike  the 
vessel,  and  pass  off  before  she  can  gather  headway. 
There  are  omens  of  a  mighty  change  above  and  be¬ 
neath.  At  times  the  stillness  laps  the  heart  in  terror : 
at  others,  mournful  notes,  like  the  wail  of  pierced 
hearts,  sound  through  the  rigging.  All  is  bustle  and 
alarm.  Hoarse  voices  shout,  and  strong  hands  hurry 
aloft  to  strip  to  bare  poles  all  that  beautiful  tracery  of 
light  spars  and  lofty  sails  which  so  long  had  vainly 
wooed  the  breeze.  Dark  clouds  gather  on  the  horizon, 
not  in  huge  masses,  such  as  fly  before  the  generous 
gale,  but  in  spots,  as  if  concentrating  their  forces  for 
one  common  blast  of  destruction.  Soon  it  comes. 
The  sea  rises  not  into  waves,  but  is  pushed  flat  before 
it,  foaming  and  roaring  in  its  impotent  wrath.  As 
quick  as  thunder  follows  lightning,  hies  that  wind  upon 
its  brief  warning.  There  is  no  lift  to  the  vessel.  The 
gust  pushes  it  down  before  it,  yard-arm  into  the  water, 
cutting  away  boats  and  spars,  and  tearing  sails  from 
gaskets  as  if  it  had  the  claws  of  a  demon.  No  human 
voice  can  now  be  heard,  or  human  eye  look  to  the 
windward.  Even  the  crash  of  broken  masts  is  un¬ 
noticed.  The  air  is  one  mass  of  furious,  blinding, 


128 


ART-HINTS. 


choking  mist.  So  long  as  the  hatches  are  secure,  and 
the  flying  gear  has  all  been  blown  clear  of  the  vessel 
there  is  no  danger.  The  wind  that  keeps  the  vessel 
down,  keeps  the  sea  down  also.  No  wood  or  iron  on 
water  can  face  it  unprostrate.  The  crew  crouch  and 
cling  for  their  lives,  and  hold  their  breaths  in  fear,  as 
the  hurricane  shrieks  frightfully  in  their  ears.  Perhaps 
not  a  cloud  is  to  be  seen,  and  yet  the  gale  rushes  by 
as  if  commissioned  to  fill  the  mighty  void  of  a 
universe  in  one  short  moment.  There  is  no  time  when 
the  power  of  wind  over  water  is  so  forcibly  shown  as  in 
a  typhoon. 

As  the  fury  of  the  gale  passes  the  danger  increases, 
because  the  sea,  hitherto  powerless,  now  rises  and 
menaces  destruction.  Clouds  gather  and  shut  in  the 
horizon  in  gloom.  They  whirl  and  toss  and  sweep 
through  the  heavens,  the  very  counterpart  of  the  waves 
beneath,  whose  tops  they  touch,  mist  and  wind  united 
in  one  common  battle,  hurrying  ruthlessly  through 
space,  and  enveloping  in  a  mass  of  briny  foam  all 
things  in  their  path.  Now  we  have  the  genuine 
Atlantic  gale.  The  waves  at  first  are  irregular  from 
the  eccentric  impulses  of  the  winds ;  now  rushing, 
roaring  forward  in  huge  toppling,  curling  breakers, 
crested  with  foam — then  broken  and  torn  into  wdld 
masses,  shooting  spray  high  into  the  air,  and,  indeed, 
frequently  being  lifted  bodily  up,  and  blown  away  far 
to  the  leeward  in  suffocating  mist.  The  howling  of 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  129 

the  gale  has  in  it  less  of  fierce  anger  and  more  of 
solemn  melancholy — something  at  times  that  savors 
of  a  human  moan — often  lulling  for  a  moment,  with 
the  same  effect  as  a  gleam  of  sunshine  struggling 
through  the  rent  clouds,  to  cheer  the  disheartened 
mariner  with  false  hope,  and  then  returning  with  a 
force  that  makes  the  stoutest  vessel  writhe  and  tremble 
in  her  heart  of  iron  and  oak.  Upon  seamanship  de¬ 
pends  the  safety  of  all  in  that  bark.  One  false  turn 
in  the  wheel,  the  sea  leaps  on  board,  and,  wrenching 
decks  from  their  fastenings,  swallows  up  all,  leaving 
not  a  trace  in  the  ocean  that  human  skill  had  ever 
there  existed.  Now  is  the  time  for  the  artist  to  seize 
the  spirit  of  the  scene,  when  man  and  elements  are  in 
the  doubtful  struggle  for  life  on  one  hand,  and  death 
on  the  other. 

Perhaps  the  vessel  is  scudding,  her  top  gear  all 
down,  lifted  only  by  a  diminished  foresail,  and  impelled 
by  the  close-reefed  main-topsail,  while  a  fore-topmast 
staysail  flaps  violently  as  it  keeps  her  from  broaching-to. 
On  she  rushes,  her  vast  frame  quivering  under  the 
canvas,  now  buried  in  the  yeast  of  waters,  now  rising 
keel  out,  as  she  darts  forward  on  a  huge  wave,  that 
lifts  her  as  if  it  would  send  her  headlong  to  "the  ocean 
caverns  below.  But,  no ;  her  bow  pushing  before  it, 
with  the  roar  of  surf,  or  increasing  mass  of  wave,  white 
as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  with  foam,  plunges  under 
for  a  second,  bowsprit  and  all,  sending  a  volume  of 

G* 


130 


ART-HINTS. 


water  back  upon  the  quarter-deck,  then  rises  buoyantly 
upon  the  ensuing  sea,  and  leaps  again  forward  on  its 
dubious  career,  shaking  the  spray  from  her  rigging, 
and  discharging  torrents  of  water  from  her  waists. 
There  is  triumph  in  this  scene  for  man,  and  sublimity 
in  the  ocean.  We  follow  that  ship  in  its  headlong 
course,  to  vary  which  is  certain  destruction,  and  which 
may  equally  lead  to  death,  by  throwing  her  upon  some 
unknown  shoal,  where  the  pursuing  waves  would  in  an 
instant  overtake  their  prey,  with- all  the  aroused  emo¬ 
tions  and  energies  that  He  who  holds  the  winds  and 
waves  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand  has  bestowed  for  our 
support  in  peril — faculties  more  wondrous  than  even 
the  action  of  the  aroused  elements. 

Who  has  giyeu  us  this  living  energy  of  ocean  power? 
Can  an  artist  desire  a  more  noble  element  of  his  land¬ 
scape  than  water,  with  its  infinite  variety  of  form, 
delicacy  of  hues,  and  grace  of  movement,  whether  in 
calm  or  storm,  as  sea  or  stream,  humble  brook  flowing 
musically  over  its  pebbly  bed,  or  the  iris-spanned  cata¬ 
ract  leaping  the  precipice,  with  furious  haste  or  exultant 
spring  ?  While  rivers  run  and  lakes  exist,  in  whose 
crystalline  depths  all-loving  Nature  reflects  itself ;  while 
the  rainbow’s  glorious  beauty  pledges  safety  to  man, 
and  the  rain  and  snow  bring  him  the  fruits  in  due 
season ;  while,  lift  heavenward,  the  wave  symphonies 
of  the  glad  ocean,  that  type  of  limitless  power,  un¬ 
changeable,  yet  never  the  same,  tameless,  yet  serving 


ARCHITECTURE,  sculpture,  and  painting.  131 

man,  erect  an.d  free  as  man  should  serve  his  Maker : 
while  water  in  any  of  its  forms  of  fantastic  unity  exists, 
the  artist  need  not  search  further  for  subjects,  nor  man 
desire  greater  proof  of  Omnipotence. 

Earth,  too,  has  its  peculiar  features.  Mere  soil  is 
of  itself  of  minor  importance.  It  depends  for  its 
character  upon  the  underlying  rocks,  which,  like  bone 
to  flesh,  give  it  shape  above,  and  to  the  vegetation 
with  which  it  is  clothed.  The  truth  of  its  forms  is, 
however,  of  absolute  importance  in  Art,  as  well  as  its 
particular  qualities,  as  distinguished  from  sky  and 
water.  Unless  these  differences — say  dryness  and 
hardness  in  contrast  with  the  liquidity  of  water  and 
the  space  and  transparency  of  atmosphere — be  felt,  the 
painter  has  lied  to  us  in  the  outset.  We  must  have 
these,  in  their  appropriate  forms  and  colors,  freely  and 
broadly  rendered,  whatever  after-deficiencies  may 
occur.  For  these  there  is  charity  ;  but  for  the  former, 
none  :  otherwise  landscape-art  becomes  disreputable, 
and  we  turn  it  out  of  doors. 

I  know  of  no  field  of  landscape  art  so  untried, 
and  which  promises  so  much,  as  tropical  scenery. 
There  is  a  bewitching  beauty  in  it,  to  which  none 
other  can  lay  claim.  Take,  for  instance,  the  island  of 
Tahiti,  with  its  abrupt  mountain-peaks  seven  thousand 
feet  high,  mantled  to  their  highest  summits  with  a 
vegetation  that  defies  the  sun,  and  pushes  its  orange- 
groves  and  magnolia  blossoms  into  the  very  brine  oi 


132 


ART-HINTS. 


the  sea.  Look  at  its  fern-clad  precipices,  ever-cool 
dells,  and  living  cascades,  shooting  rocket-like  from  out 
their  forest-homes,  a  mile  above  the  ocean,  faint  silvery 
threads  in  the  distance,  their  spray  glancing  in  the  sun¬ 
light  like  diamond-dust,  and  giving  value  to  the  green 
foliage  which  hedges  them  in ;  while  near  by,  the 
torrents  call  aloud  to  each  other  in  their  wild  fantastic 
freedom,  leaping  into  space  with  joyous  confidence, 
often  dissipating  into  mist,  and  commencing  their 
upward  flight  again,  before  reaching  the  reservoirs  of 
pure  water  beneath.  No  hill  or  mountain  forms 
repeat  each  other.  Every  curve  is  one  of  grace,  and 
none  can  number  their  variety.  Nature  here  is  ca¬ 
pricious  in  her  smiles.  At  one  moment  she  unveils 
the  entire  island  as  it  lifts  its  emerald  coronet  proudly 
to  the  unclouded  skies,  a  queen  of  beauty,  Yenus-like 
rising  from  the  sea.  Then  she  shrouds  the  whole  in 
glorious  mist,  as  in  heavenly  drapery,  putting  aside  at 
times  its  folds  of  purple  and  gold,  that  we  may  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  mysterious  loveliness  and  infinite 
variety  it  conceals  but  to  adorn.  A  dense  belt  of 
green  waving  palms  and  rich  tomano-trees,  with 
varied  hues  of  tropical  flowers  and  fruits,  interspersed 
with  native  huts,  bound  shores,  indented  with  quiet 
bays  and  coral-formed  channels.  Narrow  belts  of  sand 
sparkle  around  them,  like  brilliants  on  a  dark  skin. 
Far  out  to  sea  commence  a  long  line  of  breakers,  that 
flash  back  the  sun’s  rays  with  overpowering  brilliancy, 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  133 

as  they  leap,  and  toss  and  thunder  in  their  never- 
ending  race  to  the  shore.  Underneath  these,  and 
shooting  up  occasionally,  as  the  water  shoals,  with  all 
the  glorious  colors  of  the  struck  dolphin,  lie  beds  of 
aquatic  vegetation,  corals  and  madrepores  of  such 
wonderful  beauty  as  to  rival  the  flora  of  the  land 
beyond.  Among  them  swim  scaly  tribes  whose 
tints  seem  borrowed  from  their  homes.  Amid  all 
this,  graceful  canoes  lightly  shoot,  their  dark-skinned 
but  brightly-apparelled  crews  gaily  contrasting  with 
their  snowy-white  sails. 

Such  a  spectacle  gives  the  perfect  repose  of  beauty. 
All  is  in  keeping  with  the  lovely  whole.  Less  would 
injure,  and  more  distract  the  scene.  Has  artist  ever 
given  this  ? 

We  look  up,  as  it  were,  to  this  landscape.  Perhaps 
there  is  more  of  force  and  variety  to  be  given,  more  of 
the  broad  elements  of  nature,  in  looking  down  upon 
her  works.  With  Turner  this  was  a  favorite  mode. 
The  wide  expanse  of  earth,  with  its  endless  diversity, 
comes  more  directly  before  our  view.  There  is  a  con¬ 
sciousness  of  exultant  power,  in  which  the  spectator 
sympathises  in  viewing  nature  under  our  feet.  Apart  and 
above  it  we  penetrate  the  more  thoroughly  its  mysteries. 

No  view  gives  the  grand  features  of  nature  more 
effectively  than  that  which  meets  the  eye  some  nine 
thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  ocean,  on  the  pitch 
of  the  mountain,  which  separates  the  broad  table-land 


134 


ART-HINTS. 


of  Mexico  from  the  tropical  region.  The  vast  plain 
makes  off  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  in  all  directions, 
like  a  sea.  On  the  distant  horizon  rise  lofty,  snow-clad 
mountains,  sharp  and  clear  against  the  western  sky. 
Mexico,  the  heating  heart  of  this  enchantment,  with  its 
bright  towers  and  gleaming  lakes,  the  Aztec  Venice, 
approached  by  long  causeways  that  look  like  silver 
threads  as  they  cross  the  green  meadows,  or  as  cables 
in  the  water  by  which  the  city  is  moored  to  the  main¬ 
land,  lies  in  repose  beneath.  All  over  the  plain,  tower 
and  hamlet  repeat  each  other — white  islands  amid  seas 
of  verdure.  The  variety  of  nature  is  seen  throughout, 
because  the  scale  is  so  large.  Plain,  lake,  hill,  valley, 
and  mountain,  with  all  their  misty  infinity  of  form  and 
changeableness  of  color,  light  and  shade  in  broad 
contrasting  masses,  the  deep  green  of  distant  vege¬ 
tation,  the  crystalline  brightness  of  sunlit  water,  and 
the  intense  blue  of  heaven’s  cloudless  vault,  with  its 
mixture  of  cool  greys  as  the  atmosphere  approaches 
earth,  are  all  here,  while  enough  of  man’s  works  show 
to  suggest  the  refinements  of  civilization.  Back  of 
us,  towering  up  from  dense  vegetation,  and  sur¬ 
mounting  wildernesses  of  lava  rock,  are  the  volcanoes, 
Popocatapetl  (hill  that  smokes),  and  its  twin-sister 
Iztaccihuatl  (white  woman),  with  their  snowy  cone¬ 
like  peaks  rising  to  an  elevation  of  nearly  two  miles 
above  where  we  rest.  Their  icy  summits  glitter  like 
carbuncles  in  the  deep  blue  of  the  sky.  They  stand  so 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  135 

by  themselves,  with  no  surrounding  peaks  Jo  rival  their 
majesty  and  diminish  their  height :  so  strongly  are 
they  marked  in  zones  of  color  according  as  verdure 
diminishes,  or  sterility  commences,  perpetual  snow 
crowning  the  whole,  with  occasionally  a  faint  wreath  of 
smoke  from  the  fire  that  burns  within,  that  there  is 
nothing  in  the  whole  range  of  the  Alps,  or,  so  far  as  I 
have  seen,  in  the  Andes,  which  comes  up  to  this 
mountain-pair  in  beauty  and  sublimity. 

America  is  virgin  soil  for  the  artist.  He  who 
succeeds  in  making  us  realize  our  “  fall,”  when  nature 
assumes  its  gayest  mantle  of  colors,  and  forests  rival 
sunsets  in  variety  of  tints,  as  the  frosts  of  autumn  bite 
their  leaves,  which,  dolphin-like,  become  more  bearP- 
tiful  in  death,  will  stamp  himself  for  ever  upon  the 
national  mind.  This  cannot  be  reached  by  skill  alone 
in  drawing,  because  at  this  period  Nature  with  us 
relies  less  on  form  and  more  on  color  for  her  effects. 
Wherever  she  assumes  this  mood  the  artist  must  work 
upon  her  principle,  giving  enough  of  form  to  charac¬ 
terize  objects  in  masses,  but  depending  for  his  power 
solely  upon  vividness  of  color,  which  is  not  to  be  laid 
on  in  opaque  spots  in  violent  contrast,  but  with  those 
nice  gradations  and  combinations  by  which  nature,  while 
presenting  every  hue  that  can  charm,  never  offends  the 
eye.  Another  argument  for  raising  color  to  an 
equal  footing  with  form,  if  not  to  a  higher  position  in 
the  scale  of  beauty,  is  found  in  the  fact  that  Nature 


136 


ART-HINTS. 


relies  so  entirely  upon  it  for  its  most  attractive  effects, 
not,  as  in  form,  depending  upon  permanency,  but 
shifting  hues  with  every  variation  of  light  and  season, 
now  working  out  changes  so  rapidly  that  the  eye 
becomes  drunk  with  loveliness,  then  slowly  varying  as 
if  it  feared  it  might  dispel  its  own  enchantments. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  137 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  PARTICULAR  TRUTHS  OF  PAINTING  AND  SCULPTURE. 

The  general  truths  of  the  landscape  having  been 
established,  it  is  necessary  to  refer  to  the  particular 
truths  which  enter  into  the  composition  of  the  parts. 
These  may  be  divided,  as  in  the  former,  into  moral  or 
physical  truths  ;  the  first  derived  solely  from  their 
internal  functions,  the  latter,  in  Art,  from  their  ex¬ 
ternal  qualities.  The  simplest  object  of  inanimate 
nature  may  be  said  to  have  character  in  the  degree 
that  it  properly  fulfils  the  natural  conditions  or  uses  of 
its  creation.  Its  qualities  in  painting  refer  to  the 
accuracy  with  which  its  properties  are  represented. 
Thus,  a  rock  may  he  bold,  or  a  flower  bumble  in 
character,  each  requiring  a  different  treatment  to  render 
these  traits  from  that  which  delineates  their  external 
structure,  which  may  be  perfectly  imitated,  and  yet  we 
feel  that  the  thing  after  all  is  neither  rock  nor  plant, 
hut  a  mere  hit  of  lifeless  paint.  But  the  former 
cannot  be  freely  given  under  ordinary  accuracy  of  the 


138 


AET-HINTS. 


natural  outline,  without  suggesting  its  existence  as  a 
thing  of  life.  Hence  the  aim  of  the  artist  should  be 
mainly  to  express  character,  studying  quality,  or  ex 
ternal  finish,  only  in  that  subordinate  degree  which, 
while  it  gives  a  perfect  resemblance  of  outward  form, 
allows  full  expression  to  the  spirit. 

In  this  manner  only  can  the  complete  ideal  be 
attained.  The  amateur  should  imperiously  demand  it, 
rejecting  any  shortcoming,  not  uncharitably  —  for 
every  sincere  effort  should  be  kindly  received — but  as 
an  absolute  law  of  beauty,  which  finds  its  contentment 
only  in  perfection.  By  elevating  our  demands  we 
elevate  the  artist  also.  It  is  the  duty  of  art  to  please 
and  to  teach.  Unless  these  dual  functions  are  kept 
perpetually  and  correspondingly  in  view,  the  public 
taste  remains  rude  or  is  led  astray,  so  that,  in  time, 
both  artists  and  people,  repeating  only  weaknesses  or 
pandering  to  indolence  and  avarice  on  the  one  hand, 
and  ignoble  desires  on  the  other,  lead  each  other 
captive,  and  the  age  falsifies  Art. 

The  true  artist  derives  his  strength  from  himself. 
His  genius  knows  no  mutable  laws  of  popular  fancy 
or  greedy  necessity.  Lighting  his  lamp  from  the  pure 
flame  within  him,  he  seeks  neither  borrowed  glare  nor 
covets  vulgar  applause,  nor  even  friendly  praise,  to 
stimulate  effort.  He  knows  that  he  is  right,  and  feels 
that  he  is  a  light  set  to  illumine  the  world.  True,  to 
common  eyes  the  beams  may  be  too  bright,  and  many 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  139 

may  scoff  at  what  they  cannot  comprehend.  But  there 
is  no  surer  mark  of  genius  than  that  calm  self-reliance 
that  bides  its  time,  content  to  work  not  for  a  gene¬ 
ration  but  for  eternity.  Such  men  stamp  themselves 
on  mankind.  They  are  milestones,  noting  the  progress 
of  humanity  tywards  its  complete  development,  few 
and  far  between  ;  but  in  Homer,  Isaiah,  Dante,  and 
Shakspere,  we  have  seen  examples  among  the  poets ; 
in  Mozart  and  Beethoven,  among  the  musicians ;  and 
among  artists,  Phidias,  Michael  Angelo,  Raphael, 
Tintoretto,  Titian,  and  Turner. 

The  reason  why  men  of  such  stamp  affect  so  generally 
their  own  and  after  ages  is,  because  they  comprehend 
all  human  power.  They  are  universal  men,  born  for 
all  time  and  all  degrees  of  cultivation,  appealing  to  the 
common  heart  of  humanity,  and  yet  able  to  soar  aloft 
with  the  most  exalted  intellect.  Such  minds  are  of  two¬ 
fold  existence ;  the  common,  legible  to  every  man  ; 
and  the  inner,  which  requires  appreciating  power  to 
interpret.  They  coin  thought  into  expression,  and  are 
the  mints  •  from  which  lesser  minds  derive  their  cir¬ 
culating  medium. 

The  only  sure  source  of  power  for  the  artist  is  from 
within  himself.  In  the  degree  that  he  wanders  from 
his  own  soul-truth  he  falls  into  a  labyrinth  of  error. 
The  more  he  seeks  to  know  the  popular  opinion,  the 
farther  into  the  shoal  does  he  drive ;  until  at  last  he  is 
left  without  pilot  or  compass,  and  blown  about  by 


140 


ART-HINTS. 


every  fashion.  I  do  not  mean  to  be  understood  as 
saying  that  an  artist  can  derive  no  benefit  from  cri¬ 
ticism  ;  on  the  contrary,  a  cultivated  taste,  or  even  a 
fresh,  untutored  feeling,  are  often  invaluable  auxi¬ 
liaries  to  stimulate  and  confirm  the  artist ;  but  what  I 
do  say  is,  that  every  artist  who  has  notjdie  magnet  of 
truth  so  fixed  within  himself  as  to  turn  naturally  and 
wholly  to  sympathizing  truth,  let  it  come  from  what 
quarter  it  may,  has  mistaken  his  calling.  Labor  may 
produce  a  fair  copyist,  or  a  clever  imitator,  but  it 
never  made  an  artist.  Indeed,  the  signs  of  labor  on- 
even  a  clever  work  are  painful  to  the  spectator,  from 
its  associations  with  fatigue  of  body  and  wearisomeness 
of  mind.  Artists  may,  like  Gerard  Duow,  work  five 
days  on  a  hand  and  three  days  on  a  broom ;  but  a  few 
strokes  from  a  master-mind  will  give  a  more  living 
hand,  and  a  more  serviceable  broom,  than  months  de¬ 
voted  to  mere  finish  for  its  own  sake.  Great  work  and 
great  thoughts  are  readily  done  and  easily  expressed. 
If  not  they  have  no  claim  upon  our  attention,  for  it  is 
the  attribute  of  genius,  implanted  by  Divinity,  to  do 
what  it  has  to  do  with  facility. 

The  public  taste  should  be  so  cultivated  as  to  appre¬ 
ciate  the  artist,  and  keep  him  always  up  to  the 
standard  of  his  own  powers,  by  being  content  with 
nothing  feeble  or  half-expressed.  It  should  also  be 
able  to  keep  him  always  in  the  right  track  by  rejecting 
every  ignoble  work.  Another  and  more  painful  duty 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AMD  PAINTING.  141 

is  before  it;  and  this  is,  to  keep  Art  sacred  by  pro¬ 
tecting  her  from  profane  hands.  I  shall  have  more  to 
say  on  this  subject  when  I  treat  of  patronage. 

Painting  and  sculpture  are  in  one  sense  simply 
language.  They  open  to  view  the  soul  of  the  artist 
Few  men,  however  indifferent  they  may  be  to  the  eye 
of  God,  are  content  to  expose  their  inmost  thoughts  to 
their  fellow-men.  Yet  this  is  done  daily  by  artists 
with  an  obtuseness  which,  considering  the  disclosures 
they  make,  is,  to  say  the  least,  somewhat  remarkable. 
If  the  mind  be  impure,  the  stain  of  foulness  clings  to 
all  their  works ;  if  feeble,  it  shows  itself  in  imbecility  ; 
if  coarse,  in  vulgarity  ;  but  if  pure,  in  works  which,  like 
Angelico’s,  carry  us  bodily  into  heaven.  Whatever 
may  be  the  ruling  passion,  it  is  sure  to  manifest  itself. 
Men  are  not  always  alike,  and  sometimes  in  the  worst 
men  great  thoughts  and  noble  aspirations  arise.  These, 
however,  are  but  exceptions  to  the  universal  truth, 
that  “  out  of  the  fulness  of  the  heart  the  mouth 
speaketh.”  Some  men  are  incapable  of  expressing 
themselves  in  anything  but  common  language.  For 
such,  common  subjects  are  their  choice.  Others  are 
capable  of  elevating  even  common  subjects — reading 
sermons  from  stones — and  in  all  that  they  do  they  seek 
to  interpret  the  inner  life.  With  the  first,  Art  is  like 
a  dictionary,  giving  merely  words ;  with  the  second,  it 
is  a  volume  in  which  the  words  become  ideas.  How 
important  is  it,  then,  that  the  artist  should  keep  con- 


142 


ART-HINTS. 


stantly  in  view  the  elevation  of  himself  by  the  perse¬ 
vering  culture  of  his  soul-powers,  striving  constantly 
to  realize  in  himself  that  ideal  perfection  which  he 
would  create  in  Art.  There  is  no  greater  destroyer  of 
spiritual  eyesight — Cupid  is  not  half  so  blind — as 
mere  sensuality ;  if  of  the  mind  rather  than  the  body, 
so  much  the  worse.  On  this  account  it  is  almost 
a  hopeless  task  to  attempt  to  open  the  eyes  of  those 
darkened  by  low  desires  or  dazzled  by  vanity.  They 
may  rest  assured,  however,  that  though  they  may 
mistake  themselves,  true  taste  never  mistakes  them. 
There  is  a  leprosy  on  their  works  which  Jordan  itself 
cannot  wash  clean. 

The  ordinary  excuse  of  artists  when  giving  only  the 
common,  striking,  exaggerated,  or  false,  is,  that 
they  must  do  so  to  live.  The  public  will  not  buy 
their  truth,  but  will  pay  roundly  for  their  deception. 
This  is  a  double  sin  ;  against  your  soul  and  my  soul. 
Believe  it  not !  The  public  are  misled  because  you 
mislead  them.  They  love  truth,  and  you  give  them  a 
lie,  and  tell  them  that  it  is  a  truth.  They  believe 
you  because  you  are  a  “  professor  ”  of  an  art  about 
which  they  have  never  much  thought,  and  like  little 
children  are  willing  to  be  led.  Is  there  no  sin  in 
this  ?  Perhaps  the  few  simple  principles  to  which  I 
have  shown  that  all  Art  can  be  reduced  may  help  to 
arouse  you  both  from  so  fatal  a  delusion.  Men  who, 
like  Forrest,  turn  the  deep  thought  of  Shakspeare  into 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  143 

loud  words  and  vulgar  grimace,  are  a  pest  to  noble 
Art.  When  I  see  the  popular  taste  running  into 
extravagances  in  praise  of  such  rant,  and  the  stuff 
that  is  lauded  throughout  America  as  Art,  I  can  no 
longer  abstain  from  protesting  in  the  name  of  all  that 
is  noble  and  true,  and  with  all  the  energy  of  sincere 
conviction,  against  such  national  folly. 

The  artist  who  studies  opinions  and  not  Nature  will 
assuredly  fail.  She  is  the  only  safe  teacher.  No 
man  being  complete,  he  must  seek  strength  for  his 
inferior  or  lacking  qualities  from  their  purest  sources  ; 
not  second-hand,  but  from  the  great  mother  herself, 
Nature.  He  is  to  create  a  great  organic  whole  out  of 
the  materials  she  supplies ;  selecting  from  her  ample 
stores  those  which  best  express  his  subject  materially, 
to  combine  them  in  one  harmonious  whole,  and  invest 
the  entire  picture  with  the  thought  which  he  seeks  to 
express.  The  individual  parts  of  a  landscape,  for 
instance,  are  of  but  secondary  importance  ;  they  should 
be  chosen  with  reference  to  the  great  idea  or  feature 
which  is  to  pervade  the  picture.  By  this  I  mean  that 
the  accurate  rendering  of  the  likeness  of  any  material 
landscape  is  of  less  consequence  than  the  combination 
of  particular  features  selected,  as  it  were  at  random, 
from  Nature,  and  grouped  into  one  harmonious  whole, 
provided  that  the  ideal  landscape  thus  created  excels 
the  natural  in  those  general  truths  which  the  artist 
wishes  to  express.  An  artist  cannot  go  beyond  Nature  ; 


144 


ART-HINTS. 


he  cannot  even  rival  her  on  her  key ;  but  as  nature 
does  not  always  equally  express  herself,  and  is  not 
uniform  in  her  exhibition  of  beauty,  the  artist  should 
endeavor,  in  preserving  the  main  features  of  a  land¬ 
scape,  so  to  introduce  the  noblest  truths  of  Nature, 
that  while  his  picture  may  not  be  an  exact  transcript 
of  the  chosen  site,  yet  it  shall  embrace  all  the  highest 
truths  that  that  site  would  be  capable  of  rendering 
under  the  most  favorable  circumstances  of  Nature’s 
workmanship.  Even  more,  the  artist  should  have 
studied  Nature  so  deeply  as  to  be  able  to  create — 
compose,  it  is  commonly  termed — a  picture  made  up 
of  no  local  truths,  yet  rendering  her  general  truths  in 
their  most  harmonious  and  forcible  manner.  The 
purely  ideal  landscape  is  the  severest  test  of  this 
branch  of  Art.  All  other  depends  mainly  npon  fidelity 
in  copying  and  taste  in  selection.  To  produce  a  new 
and  perfect  whole,  which  the  mind  shall  receive  as 
Nature’s  excellence,  without  care  for  or  question  as  to 
locality,  is  the  work  only  of  the  highest  genius.  There 
is,  therefore,  no  surer  evidence  of  real  elevation  and 
power  than  in  the  choice  or  composition  of  subjects. 
This  applies  equally  to  all  Art.  For  if  it  require  great 
talent  to  read  material  Nature  aright,  how  much  more 
does  it  demand  to  portray  in  man  the  finer  elements  of 
his  mind ;  to  catch  the  fleeting  expression,  the  burning 
emotion,  the  noble  thought,  the  lofty  aspiration,  or 
harder  yet,  the  indefinable  joy  with  which  love  illu- 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  145 

mines  the  soul !  Only  the  greatest  artists  have  pro¬ 
duced  noble  portraits. 

There  is  much  choice  in  the  selection  and  treatment 
of  parts  and  of  separate  subjects.  Every  artist  has  his 
individual  bias,  depending  upon  the  scope  of  his  genius 
Some  who  do  well  in  one  department,  or  with  one 
class  of  subjects,  utterly  fail  in  attempting  another. 
Each  should  carefully  fathom  his  own  ability  and 
inclination,  adhering  solely  to  those  branches  to  which 
his  qualifications  naturally  tend.  Universal  artists 
are,  like  all  extremes  of  nature,  of  rare  occurrence. 
The  most  lamentable  failures  of  otherwise  great  minds 
are  seen  in  their  ambitious  wanderings  from  their 
natural  spheres.  When  I  come  to  treat  of  the  schools 
and  works  of  Art,  I  shall  have  occasion  to  recall  several 
notable  examples  of  this  truth. 

Whatever  an  artist  is  best  qualified  for,  that  let  him 
adhere  to.  The  variety  of  Nature  is  sufficient  to 
occupy  all  Art  through  all  time.  There  is  nothing 
unworthy  of  the  greatest  mind  in  her  truths ;  but 
great  minds  should  reserve  themselves  for  great  truths. 
There  is  always  a  sufficiency  of  little  minds  to  give  the 
little  truths. 

The  skill  necessary  to  copy  fruits  and  flowers  is 
surely  of  a  different  degree  from  that  required  for 
numan  portraiture.  Yet  it  is  as  essential  to  the  artist 
of  the  former  that  he  should  study  their  qualities  and 
functions,  as  that  the  portrait-painter  should  learn  to 

H 


146 


ART-HINTS. 


faithfully  interpret  human  emotion,  and  give  us  on 
canvas  the  absolute  qualities  of  flesh  and  blood. 

Common  subjects  are  very  commonly  painted,  simply 
from  the  facility  with  which  they  can  be  indifferently 
or  even  cleverly  imitated.  Common  eyes,  too,  find 
pleasure,  from  the  same  principle,  in  the  glitter  of 
brass  kettles,  the  stiffness  of  Dutch  brooms,  the  gloss 
of  velvets,  the  shining  folds  of  draperies,  the  intricate 
patterns  of  lace,  the  down  on  fruit,  and  the  dewdrop 
on  flowers ;  in  short,  in  the  whole  compass  of  objects  of 
manufacture,  or  the  mere  sleight  of  hand  of  imitative 
art,  because  these  things  are  in  real  life  what  they 
best  understand.  A  man  may  deceive  the  birds  by 
the  nicety  of  his  painted  fruit,  but  that  does  not  prove 
him  an  artist ;  it  simply  shows  that  the  feathered  crea¬ 
tion  are  no  judges  of  art.  Every  crow  is  scared  by  a 
torn  coat  and  old  hat  perched  upon  a  stick,  but  that 
is  a  confession  of  stupidity,  and  not  a  proof  of  judg¬ 
ment.1  Nothing  is  more  facile  than  deceptive  imita¬ 
tion.  The  eye  is  the  easiest  gulled  of  all  our  senses. 
Every  day  we  have  evidence  of  this  in  the  chiaroo-scuro 


1  Uncultivated  minds  naturally  find  their  highest  pleasure  in  the 
trivial  and  common  place,  often  to  the  disappointment  of  the  true 
artist,  who,  forgetful  of  his  own  elevation  of  taste,  looks  unwittingly 
to  a  general  appreciation,  when  he  should  be  satisfied  if  understood 
by  the  select  few,  capable  of  feeling  his  soul-effort.  Allston,  to  his 
mortification,  overheard  one  day  a  rude  critic  remark  of  his  ‘  Jere¬ 
miah  dictating  his  prophecy  against  Jerusalem,5  “  Well,  he  was  a 
cute  man  that  made  that  jar.”  The  picture  contained  an  earthen 
pot,  which  was  all  the  countryman  could  see  or  appreciate. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  TAINTING.  147 

decorations  of  buildings,  and  the  mock  stone  of  wooden 
architecture.  All  these  deceptions,  however,  in  a  more 
or  less  degree,  affect  the  mind  unpleasantly,  because 
they  substitute  the  false  for  the  real.  How  much 
of  the  effect  of  the  otherwise  fine  interior  of  the  Milan 
Cathedral  is  lost  from  perceiving  the  painted  ribs  and 
panellings  of  the  arched  ceilings  that  deceive  only  the 
careless  eye  into  the  appearance  of  stone !  A  friend 
who  was  earnest  in  his  praise  of  the  solemn  interior  of 
this  edifice,  was  filled  with  disgust  as  soon  as  I  pointed 
out  to  him  the  architectural  trick  overhead.  No  sin¬ 
cere  mind  can  find  pleasures  in  shams.  Above  all 
they  should  be  avoided  in  the  house  of  God.  There 
let  everything  be  what  it  actually  represents. 

In  some  ornamentation  deception  is  allowable,  as  in 
the  chiaro-oscuro  frescoes  of  the  Bourse  at  Paris.  We 
are  pleased  with  the  cleverness  of  the  artist  in  imitating 
actual  bas-relief,  on  the  same  principle  that  we  admire 
the  tricks  of  the  juggler.  So  in  painting.  We  admire 
the  dexterity,  but  take  no  pleasure  in  the  work. 

There  is  not  only  a  right  choice  of  subjects  but  a 
right  time  for  choosing  them.  That  is,  when  their  vital 
functions  are  in  their  most  perfect  operation,  avoiding 
all  disgusting  displays  of  physical  action,  which,  how¬ 
ever  necessary  in  the  economy  of  nature,  have  no  legiti¬ 
mate  claim  upon  art.  This  would  seem  to  be  an  un¬ 
necessary  rule,  but  a  cursory  examination  of  the  Euro¬ 
pean  galleries  will  show  that  it  has  often  been  violated 


148 


ART-HINTS. 


by  great  names.  W ere  I  to  give  merely  the  catalogue 
title  of  a  very  celebrated  picture  in  Holland,  I  should 
be  guilty  of  an  unpardonable  breach  of  decorum  accord¬ 
ing  to  the  American  standard.  If  the  subject  be  of  the 
inanimate  creation,  the  choice  should  be  confined  to 
the  most  perfectly- developed  specimens,  keeping  in 
view  the  idea  to  be  conveyed.  The  beauty  of  the 
forest  tree  differs  from  that  of  the  park,  in  the  same 
degree  that  wild  animals  differ  from  those  that  have 
been  tamed  by  man  to  his  uses.  So  of  flowers. 

There  are  often  emotions  of  sublimity,  awe,  fear,  or 
effort  to  be  aroused,  which  require  deviations  from  the 
literal  types  of  physical  beauty.  In  such  cases  they 
must  be  made  subordinate  to  the  main  sentiment. 
Even  ugliness  may  be  admitted  as  a  contrasting  power, 
and  as  connected  with  the  supernatural  or  with  evil  pas¬ 
sions.  As  a  general  rule  Art  must  agree  with  Nature  ; 
but  there  are  certain  effects  sometimes  to  be  obtained 
which  can  be  done  only  by  a  partial  sacrifice  of  the 
truths  of  Nature.  She,  in  the  infinity  of  her  power, 
can  work  out  her  aims  as  it  were  by  mere  will,  calling 
up  latent  forces,  in  whose  existence,  from  the  rarity  of 
their  display,  we  scarcely  believe.  The  artist,  how¬ 
ever,  has  no  such  resources.  Confined  to  a  few  simple 
materials,  he  depends  sometimes  for  his  most  powerful 
effects  from  reversing  as  it  were  the  order  of  Nature, 
and  without  letting  us  know  how,  mysteriously  affecting 
us  in  Art  in  the  same  manner  that  Nature  does  in  those 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  149 

extraordinary  manifestations  of  the  infinity  of  her  va¬ 
riety  which  we  designate  as  phenomena.  The  artist 
may  indeed  appear  wrong  in  part,  never  as  a  whole, 
otherwise  it  would  be  a  failure  in  contrast  with  nature 
in  the  same  relations.  Yet  upon  examination  it  will 
be  seen  that  by  no  other  process  could  he  so  perfectly 
render  the  general  idea  or  effect  which  he  has  in 
view  ;  so  that  while  emphasizing  a  noble  truth  by  the 
contrasting  result  of  a  partial  falsehood,  or  the  sacrifice 
of  a  minor  feature  for  a  great  thought,  he  is  elevating 
Art  to  its  highest  standard.  It  is  in  this  view  that  the 
truths  of  Nature  and  Art  are  said  to  be  not  the  same. 
No  man  ever  understood  the  subtle  working  of  this 
principle  more  fully  than  Titian. 

Many  noble  works  are  misjudged  from  ignorance  of 
the  primary  laws  of  vision.  Most  persons  value  a 
painting  in  proportion  as  they  can  see  clearly  all  that 
is  in  it.  Every  object  must  be  so  sharply  defined  that 
the  mind  shall  have  nothing  left  on  which  to  employ 
itself.  Their  feeling  is  confined  to  their  eyes.  This  is 
doubly  wrong.  First,  it  violates  a  truth  of  nature. 
We  do  not  see  with  equal  distinctness  near  and  distant 
objects.  If  our  eyes  are  fixed  upon  the  far  distance,  or 
midway  to  it,  the  landscape  immediately  before  us,  or 
the  foreground,  is  vague  and  indistinct.  We  feel 
there  are  forms  and  colors,  all  natural  in  their  position, 
but  unless  we  direct  our  eyes  to  them  we  cannot  de¬ 
scribe  them.  So  if  we  gaze  upon  the  objects  near 


150 


ART-HINTS. 


us,  those  farther  off  acquire  a  similar  mystery  of  vision. 
The  artist,  therefore,  who  renders  all  his  landscape 
with  equal  ocular  precision  violates  nature. 

Artistic  distance  depends  chiefly  upon  the  greater  or 
less  distinctness  of  the  drawing  of  detail.  By  this  rule 
the  spectator  can  at  once  judge  where  the  artist  would 
direct  his  eye,  and  if  at  that  point  he  sees  the  landscape 
with  the  same  comparative  clearness  that  he  would  at 
an  equal  distance  in  Nature,  he  may  he  assured  that, 
for  wdrat  is  more  suggested  than  absolutely  shown, 
there  is  an  imperative  law,  which  the  artist  can  vio¬ 
late  only  at  a  sacrifice  of  truth. 

The  second  reason  why  this  positive  clearness  of  all 
objects  in  painting  is  wrong  is,  that  as  a  painter 
cannot  give  the  entire  variety  of  Nature,  he  must 
content  himself  with  suggesting  all  that  she  would  give 
under  similar  circumstances.  The  utmost  variety 
that  Art  can  absolutely  incorporate  into  painting  is 
mere  feebleness  beside  the  natural  world.  Hence,  if 
throughout  his  space  we  see  only  what  his  pencil  abso¬ 
lutely  defines,  we  exhaust  his  art  at  a  glance,  and  go 
away  with  as  little  impression  on  our  minds  as  if  we 
had  looked  at  a  shop  wdndow.  On  the  contrary,  if 
every  touch  suggests  more  than  it  represents,  we  recur 
with  fond  delight  again  and  again  to  his  pictures, 
because  every  glance  reveals  some  new  form  or  idea. 
An  artist  whose  power  goes  not  beyond  absolute  ex¬ 
pression  repeats  only  himself.  The  spectator  should 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  151 

be  made  to  forget  both  the  artist  and  his  material,  and 
lose  himself  in  its  nature  or  thought. 

There  is  another  test  still  more  striking  of  true 
excellence  of  work.  Indifferent  or  superficial  art 
makes  no  impression  on  the  mind.  You  leave  it,  and 
straightway  it  is  forgotten.  Not  so  with  the  labors 
of  genius.  Shut  your  eyes  and  the  picture  is  more 
visible  to  the  mind  than  ever  it  was  to  the  sight.  It 
has  become  a  fixed  fact  of  your  inner  life.  No  time 
or  distance  will  obliterate  its  image,  but  it  will  “  grow 
with  your  growth,  and  strengthen  with  your  strength.” 
Thus  you  may  judge  of  its  merit  by  the  power  it  has 
over  your  heart. 

Man  has  but  a  secondary  part  to  play  in  the 
landscape.  Wherever  he  is  introduced,  so  as  to 
interfere  with  its  spirit  by  directing  the  eye  to 
incongruous  action  or  motions,  he  is  a  blot  upon 
its  harmony.  Few  artists  understand  the  import¬ 
ance  of  keeping  figures  in  subjection  to  the  land¬ 
scape.  The  reverse  of  the  principle  holds  true  when 
the  artist  seeks  to  render  the  life  or  works  of  man. 
Then  the  landscape  becomes  the  secondary  object, 
and  should  be  used  only  in  developing  the  general 
idea. 

Man,  as  being  the  climax  of  Nature,  is  the  noblest 
subject-matter  of  Art.  In  all  ages  artists  have  recog¬ 
nised  this  truth  in  their  attempts  to  render  the  human 
figure,  either  as  the  perfection  of  physical  matter,  or 


152 


ART-HINTS. 


as  the  form  through  which  spirit  most  delights  to 
manifest  itself. 

Female  loveliness  is  the  most  fascinating  type  of 
humanity.  In  it  we  have  the  highest  development  of 
form  and  color  as  united  in  beauty.  The  lines  of  the 
perfect  human  form  are  the  most  beautiful  in  their 
graceful  curvatures  that  Nature  produces.  They  are 
living  witnesses  that  she  formed  them  for  her  noblest 
purpose.  So  of  color.  No  hue  of  the  animal  or  vege¬ 
table  kingdom  rivals  the  tints  with  which  the  charms 
of  woman  glow.  They  were  bestowed  as  the  strongest 
appeal  to  the  sensuous  heart.  United  with  virtue 
they  robe  the  sex  with  irresistible  attraction.  The 
Art  that  can  make  us  feel  the  smoothness  and  elas¬ 
ticity  of  the  female  skin,  its  cleai’,  translucent  surface, 
not  lustrous  but  tender  from  its  delicate  mingling  of 
white  and  pale  warm  red,  subdued  by  the  nicest  gra¬ 
dations  of  the  purest  and  most  pearly  greys  into  sense- 
captivating  loveliness,  is  scarcely  of  earthly  mould. 
If  to  the  physical  ideal  be  added  the  greater  loveliness 
of  mind,  which  radiates  from  the  features  as  light  from 
the  sun,  elevating  and  purifying  all  things  on  which 
its  glances  rest,  we  have  all  that  Art  might  aspire  to 
and  yet  not  reach,  unless  its  lamp  were  replenished  at 
the  divine  fountain  from  which  beauty  itself  was  created. 

The  same  rules  which  guide  our  judgment  in  the 
character  and  quality  of  the  landscape  world,  and  the 
choice  and  treatment  of  subjects,  in  relation  to  their 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  153 

natures  and  ideas  to  be  conveyed,  are  of  equal  value 
as  applied  to  man.  His  ideal  physical  beauty  is  often 
to  be  subdued  to  or  sacrificed  for  the  nobler  expres¬ 
sion  of  intellect  or  soul.  These  are  more  emphatic, 
perhaps,  as  they  triumph  over  the  weaknesses  of 
flesh.  Yet  nothing  connected  with  man,  that  is  solely 
sensual,  by  which  the  divinity  bestowed  upon  him  is 
utterly  extinguished  or  buried  deep  in  lusts,  or  which 
refers  exclusively  to  his  physical  agonies  or  sin’s 
heritage,  without  motive  of  higher  import,  should  be 
presented  by  Art.  Out  of  such  attempts  nothing  can 
come  but  hopeless  sorrow  and  degradation.  We 
shrink  from  the  display  of  animal  suffering  in  Art, 
because  it  pains  our  sympathies  and  allows  of  no 
compassionate  action  for  their  relief.  Our  own  sensual 
passions  have  sufficient  innate  force  without  the  excite¬ 
ments  of  pictured  or  sculptured  temptation.  We 
would  not  reject,  however,  the  warning  experience  of 
frailty,  or  the  sterner  retributions  of  crime,  provided 
the  moral  is  legible.  Human  functions  have  a  capa¬ 
city  of  expression  as  limitless  as  the  intellect  they 
house.  The  artist  whose  own  soul  does  not  respond 
to  the  depths  of  another’s  heart,  who  cannot  catch 
inspiration  from  the  gleaming  of  the  eye  and  read  the 
thought  on  the  curling  lip,  put  fire  or  repose  at  will 
into  the  limb,  suggesting  the  action  or  speech  as  pal¬ 
pably  as  if  body  moved  and  tongue  spoke ;  in  short, 
who  cannot  make  his  canvas  or  marble  live,  has  no 

H* 


154 


ART-IIINTS. 


right  to  lay  his  profane  hands  on  the  human  form  or 
countenance.  We  have  enough  of  vacancy  in  fair 
faces  at  all  times ;  enough  of  spiritual  dross,  stupidity, 
and  intellectual  degradation  in  the  human  world  in 
which  we  move ;  more  than  enough  of  insipidity  from 
lack  of  soul-culture  in  both  men  and  women,  upon 
whom  sloth  and  sense  have  laid  their  heavy  hands, 
without  an  endless  repetition  of  their  deadly  loss  to 
stare  at  us  unceasingly  from  gallery  walls.  No !  let 
ignoble  features  alone !  Give  us  the  subduing  power 
of  love,  the  tenderness  of  sympathy,  the  fulness  of  joy, 
the  sweetness  of  hope,  the  strength  of  faith,  the  he¬ 
roism  of  virtue,  the  power  of  intellect,  the  lessons,  and 
if  need  he  the  suffering  of  self-denial,  the  repose  of 
constancy,  and  the  patience  of  charity.  Let  these  and 
every  sentiment  or  passion  consecrated  by  religion  and 
ruled  by  mind,  look  at  us  through  human  flesh,  tender 
in  quality  with  blood  and  muscle  beneath,  that  a  pin 
might  make  flow  or  a  blow  turn  blue,  truthful  in  out¬ 
line,  severely  graceful  in  proportions,  combining  soul, 
color,  and  form  in  one  harmonious  portrait,  and  then 
we  may  talk  sensibly  of  the  triumphs  of  Art  as  the 
interpreter  of  humanity. 

Exaggeration,  however,  must  be  scrupulously 
avoided.  The  main  idea  can  be  kept  prominent,  and 
yet  all  others  so  nicely  graduated,  that  there  shall  be 
no  violent  transitions,  or  swellings  up  of  parts  at  the 
expense  of  others,  and  to  the  loss  of  the  harmony  that 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  155 

Nature  exacts  in  all  her  works.  Physically,  we  may 
create  a  monster  or  a  pigmy  by  abuse  of  the  law  of 
proportions ;  morally,  we  destroy  all  dignity,  and  de¬ 
range  our  subject  by  its  violation.  It  is  much  easier 
to  make  sentiment  ridiculous,  or  even  grief  disgusting, 
by  the  aggravation  of  its  outward  expressions,  as  in 
Guercino’s  Hagar,  than  to  ennoble  passion  by  its  sub¬ 
jection  to  virtue  and  reason.  In  Art  we  want  neither 
fools  nor  madmen.  Passion  we  must  have  as  the 
great  lever  of  the  human  heart ;  but  bring  it  to  us  in 
the  quiet  majesty  of  the  true  hero,  or  the  sublimity  of 
virtue  born  of  beauty,  and  not  in  the  mockery  and  rant 
of  stage  effort  in  its  garb  of  tinsel  show. 

Much  doubt  exists  as  to  the  propriety  of  rendering 
the  nude  figure.  In  sculpture  it  is  universally  ad¬ 
mitted,  because  mere  form  does  not  appeal  strongly  to 
sense.  As  I  have  before  remarked,  its  chief  claim  is 
upon  the  intellect ;  add  color,  however,  and  upon  the 
universal  principle  of  nature  in  its  use,  feeling  is  at 
once  touched ;  it  must,  of  course,  be  combined  accord¬ 
ing  to  the  law  of  harmony.  A  gilt  or  a  bronze 
statue  arouses  no  emotion  beyond  intellectual  admira¬ 
tion  ;  any  artificial  employment  of  color,  such  as 
tinting  marble,  strikes  the  mind  disagreeably  as  a 
falsification  of  the  material  without  any  adequate 
motive.  We  look  to  sculpture  for  form  alone;  if  it 
attempt  more  it  becomes  painful  as  a  violation  of  its 
primary  truth ;  indeed,  I  believe  for  sculnture  itself, 


156 


ART-HINTS. 


as  confined  to  the  human  figure,  that  the  intellectual 
pleasure  diminishes  in  the  degree  that  pure  white  is 
departed  from  as  its  material.  Does  any  one  find 
other  pleasure  in  the  artistic  freaks  of  the  classical 
ages,  and  the  imitations  of  the  Renaissance  in  the  shape 
of  blackamoors,  draperies,  and  occasionally  separate 
features,  rendered  by  the  natural  colors  of  their  stone- 
material,  than  in  the  ingenuity  of  these  combinations? 
This  is  a  separate  question  from  color  in  architecture, 
to  which  I  strongly  incline,  especially  if,  as  in  the 
Duomo  of  Florence,  it  is  derived  from  the  porphyries, 
jaspers,  serpentines,  and  other  precious  stones  of  which 
it  is  constructed.  So,  too,  of  statuary  on  the  exterior 
of  buildings  ;  to  be  in  harmony  with  the  architecture, 
they  must  acquire  its  general  hue.  The  atmosphere 
understands  this  law  of  unity,  and  soon  tones  all  sur¬ 
faces  to  its  natural  key ;  but  for  indoor  statuary,  the 
most  pleasing  color  is  the  transparent  white  of  the 
marble  itself,  softened  by  time  to  flesh-like  delicacy. 

The  Reformation  inflicted  no  greater  injury  upon 
good  taste  than  in  whitewashing  the  interior  of  its 
churches.  Wherever  Puritanism  and  its  kindred  creeds 
prevail,  whitewash  almost  appears  to  be  an  article  of 
faith  :  it  has  even  made  inroads  on  Roman  ground. 
Throughout  the  United  States,  and  over  a  great  por¬ 
tion  of  Europe,  the  interior  of  churches  is  one  blinding 
glare  of  white.  Why  is  this  ?  Must  the  soul  do  con¬ 
tinual  penance  through  its  eyes  to  keep  alive  its  faith? 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  157 

The  Almighty  does  not  thus  mortify  our  tastes.  He 
spreads  color  all  over  his  creation  for  the  special  pur¬ 
pose  of  gratifying  our  vision.  He  connects  its  enjoy¬ 
ment  with  feeling,  and  thus  makes  it  food  for  the  soul. 
True,  it  may  be  made  an  instrument  of  sense;  but  so 
may  love  itself,  on  which  religion  is  based.  Color  is 
the  type  of  holiness  :  if  you  doubt  this,  go  to  Nature’s 
sunsets,  and  then  seek,  through  the  endless  variety  of 
her  beauty,  to  find  from  out  of  it  a  pleasure  more  pure 
and  sincere  than  this.  You  cannot !  Ask  revelation 
whether  it  is  form  or  color  that  is  most  used  as  a  type 
of  spiritual  glory  ?  The  throne  of  God  is  “  like  unto 
an  emerald,”  and  “  there  was  a  rainbow  round  about 
the  throne.”  The  glory  of  God  was  for  “  light  like 
unto  a  stone  most  precious,  even  like  a  jasper  stone, 
clear  as  crystal the  foundations  of  the  walls  of  the 
celestial  city  “  were  garnished  with  all  manner  of  pre¬ 
cious  stones  the  twelve  gates  were  twelve  pearls, 
and  the  streets  pure  gold.  There  we  have  color 
without  regard  to  form,  used  to  impress  upon  our 
minds  the  beauty  of  that  spiritual  world.  We  may 
safely  conclude,  without  risking  the  salvation  of  our 
souls,  that  color  was  given  for  man’s  use  and  enjoy¬ 
ment  ;  if  he  persist  in  making  his  world  barren,  angels 
may  pity,  but  cannot  save  him  from  his  own  blindness. 

Puritanical  whitewash  is  no  more  applicable  to  a 
church  on  the  one  hand,  than  the  upholstery  decorations 
and  ball-room  taste  of  the  Madeleine  and  Notre  Dame 


158 


ART-HINTS. 


de  Lorette  at  Paris,  on  the  other.  Color  has  mean¬ 
ings  :  it  can  be  gay  or  serious,  solemn  or  frivolous ; 
indeed,  it  is  eminently  suggestive  to  feeling.  Like 
music,  it  has,  in  a  certain  degree,  the  power  to  arouse 
emotion.  Why,  then,  should  not  its  capacity  he  em¬ 
ployed  in  our  churches,  to  give  that  serene  repose  to 
the  eye  which  so  aids  thought  in  its  service  of  the  soul  ? 
To  the  scoffer  at  its  spiritual  efficacy,  I  would  say,  Go 
straight  from  one  of  those  naked  meeting-houses  into 
the  solemnity  of  the  Strasbourg  Cathedral,  and  then 
tell  me  if  the  light  of  day,  subdued  into  keeping  with 
those  greyish-purple  time-tinted  columns,  and  massive 
roof  of  stone,  lifting  its  arches  in  heavenward  span, 
while  through  the  glass-stained  windows,  rainbow 
glories  pour  with  mellowed  rays,  sparkling  in  the 
atmosphere  like  down  from  angel’s  wings ;  whether 
these  be  not  more  in  keeping  with  what  we  are  told  of 
the  celestial  abodes,  than  those  four-sided,  flat-roofed, 
colorless  walls  into  which  Calvinistic  Protestantism 
cramps  itself!  I  write  feelingly  on  this  subject,  be¬ 
cause  I  do  not  wish  to  see — as  has  often  been  said  of 
music — color  employed  only  in  the  service  of  the  devil  ; 
the  Being  who  created  it  has  the  sole  right  to  its 
loyalty. 

To  return  to  sculpture.  The  nude  figure  is  its 
legitimate  province  when  it  wishes  to  represent  men  or 
women  as  created  for  Paradise,  perfect  in  form  and 
pure  in  feature.  The  power,  action,  and  beauty  of  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  159 

human  figure  can  in  no  other  way  be  adequately  pre¬ 
sented.  Clothing  becomes  then  a  mere  accessory,  and 
not  as  by  the  laws  of  social  propriety  a  necessity.  We 
are  to  look  upon  the  creation  of  the  sculptor  as  God 
looked  upon  Adam  when  He  pronounced  him  “  good.” 
If  he  fail  to  awaken  in  us  this  feeling,  there  is  a  taint 
of  foulness  either  about  him  or  in  ourselves.  Search 
for  it  and  cast  it  out,  for  it  will  bite  with  a  serpent’s 
tooth.  The  majority  of  men  associate  vulgar  ideas 
with  the  human  form,  simply  because  they  have 
debased  their  own  minds  by  sensual  thoughts  or 
actions.  With  the  young  it  often  assumes  the  form  of 
mock  modesty,  owing  to  the  false  direction  given  to 
their  education.  Were  their  own  natural  instincts  of 
purity  left  free  to  act,  they  would  see  only  in  human 
beauty  the  power  and  wisdom  of  the  Creator.  Still, 
even  in  sculpture  a  wrong  direction  can  be  given  to 
the  purest  material  from  the  corrupt  imagination  of 
the  artist,  as  may  be  seen  on  the  tomb  of  Paul  III., 
in  St.  Peter’s,  at  Pome.  Two  women,  as  Virtues, 
recline  upon  it.  To  the  younger  the  sculptor  imparted 
so  lascivious  a  contour  of  limbs,  that  one  of  the  popes 
was  compelled  to  clothe  them  in  bronze  drapery ;  their 
effect  upon  the  prurient  minds  of  clergy  doomed  to 
celibacy  being  not  of  the  most  edifying  character. 
Even  now  there  is  an  atmosphere  of  voluptuousness 
about  it  that  the  bronze  cannot  wholly  conceal.  It 
would  have  been  far  better  to  have  ground  the  statue 


16C 


ART-HINTS. 


to  pieces  for  lime  than  to  have  left  it  as  a  monument 
in  a  Christian  temple. 

In  treating  the  human  figure,  particularly  the 
female,  in  painting,  so  as  to  escape  all  appearance  of 
sensuality,  it  requires  not  only  consummate  art  but 
equal  purity  of  mind.  It  can  be  so  represented,  as  by 
Titian  in  his  ‘  Dresden  Venus,’  that  no  idea  of  modesty 
or  immodesty  enters  the  mind,  but  the  spectator  be 
wholly  lost  in  the  enchantment  of  the  perfect-art 
woman.  Then  again,  as  in  his  ‘Tribune  Venus,’  at 
Florence,  we  have  before  us  the  complete  type  of 
voluptuousness,  yet  so  sanctified  by  his  art  that  desire 
makes  no  inroads  upon  admiration.  We  see,  it  is 
true,  a  naked  woman  of  life-size  glowing  with  passion, 
but  so  wrapt  in  beauty’s  mould,  that  while  we  recog¬ 
nise  in  her  the  great  design  of  her  sex  “  to  be  fruitful 
and  multiply,”  yet  no  profane  thought  abides  with 
that  unequalled  triumph  of  Art. 

We  have  had,  however,  but  one  Titian.  Unless  an 
artist  feels  an  equal  capacity  of  so  purely  rendering 
the  nude  figures  in  those  modes,  which  if  not  treated 
with  the  noble  freedom  with  which  Nature  inspired 
man  before  he  knew  sin,  approaching,  as  it  were,  the 
natural  innocence  of  animals  in  obeying  their  instincts, 
he  will  but  display  his  own  corruption,  and  he  had 
better  drape  his  flesh  and  blood  sufficiently  to  hide 
that  consciousness  of  nakedness  that  came  to  us  only 
with  our  fall. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  IG3 

Sculpture  precedes  painting  in  civilization,  because 
its  materials  are  simpler,  its  mechanical  difficulties 
more  easily  overcome,  and  it  requires  less  mental 
effort.  Painting  in  its  highest  flight  demands  all  that 
sculpture  knows  and  something  more.  Which  has  the 
greater  abstract  power  over  the  human  mind  has  been 
often  discussed.  I  believe  it  lies  with  painting ; 
though  what  it  gains  in  color  is  perhaps  counter¬ 
balanced  by  what  it  loses  in  completeness  of  form.  Its 
capacity  is,  however,  far  greater.  If  it  lack  power  in 
comparison  with  sculpture  over  the  popular  mind,  it 
is  because  its  faults  are  not  only  more  conspicuous, 
but  its  excellences  require  greater  cultivation  to  appre¬ 
ciate.  The  same  general  principles  of  harmony, 
unity,  variety,  repose,  and  sincerity  are  equally  appli¬ 
cable  to  both.  The  same  vices  of  composition,  exag¬ 
geration,  feebleness,  incongruity,  and  distortion  of 
parts,  are  to  be  likewise  avoided.  The  first  great 
question  in  regard  to  it  is  its  idea  or  motive  ;  second, 
its  execution  or  finish.  With  cither,  great  thoughts 
have  often  been  more  forcibly  given  in  outline  than  in 
completion,  because  with  finish  came  perhaps  over¬ 
attention  to  the  externals,  by  which  the  original 
thought  was  frittered  away,  or  distracted  from  the 
spectator’s  mind  by  glaring  faults  of  form  and  want  of 
general  unity. 

Whatever  we  feel  or  know  of  inner  life  must  be  mani¬ 
fested  in  form  or  color.  Spirit,  like  matter,  has  shape 


1G2 


ART-HINTS. 


and  hue.  Every  emotion,  however  subtle,  discloses 
itself  by  external  action ;  in  fine,  the  soul,  whether 
spiritualized  or  sensualized,  gives  likeness  to  the  outer 
man.  Hence  the  idea,  that  to  render  the  human  form 
in  its  most  perfect  expression  in  sculpture,  nothing 
more  is  necessary  than  an  instrument  which  shall 
accurately  give  every  material  length,  diameter,  and 
superficies  of  skin-surface  in  all  their  fine  gradations 
and  relations  to  the  whole.  An  instrument  of  this 
nature  can  indeed  do  much,  as  I  have  witnessed. in 
one  constructed  by  Joel  T.  Hart,  the  American 
sculptor,  at  Florence.  Mr.  Hart  resolves  the  capacity 
of  sculpture  into  a  system  of  mathematical  measure¬ 
ments.  He  argues  that  the  sculptor  to  produce 
actuality  as  in  life  must  measure  or  judge  by  the  eye 
alone,  consequently  an  instrument  which  shall  com¬ 
bine  in  itself  a  sufficient  number  of  measurements, 
applied  to  the  human  form  so  as  to  render  its  infinite 
gradations  in  their  complex  unity,  will  do  what  the 
unassisted  eye  or  mind  cannot  effect.  Moreover,  as 
the  unsupported  figure  is  continually  changing,  and 
expression  varying,  whereby  the  relations  of  parts  to 
the  whole  are  constantly  disturbed,  the  instrument 
which  shall  measure  accurately  expression  and  alti¬ 
tude  through  form  in  their  highest  conditions,  does 
what  the  sculptor  can  never  hope  to  do  by  the  common 
process  of  callipers  and  mental  judgment.  It  seizes 
and  fixes  the  right  expression  or  action,  and  from  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  1G3 

rapidity  and  accuracy  with  which  it  works,  completes 
the  design  of  the  artist  as  it  were  at  one  effort,  with¬ 
out  fear  of  loss  of  harmony  by  variation  of  parts, 
owing  to  differences  of  time  in  modelling  as  is  the  usual 
practice.  But  to  do  full  justice  to  Mr.  Hart,  I  will 
quote  his  own  words  to  me  in  explanation  of  his  inven¬ 
tion,  or  rather  its  intention.  Until  his  patents  are 
secured,  he  does  not  wish  to  make  public  the  principles 
of  its  construction. 

“  The  invention  claims  to  transfer  from  the  living 
original  to  clay  or  other  material  the  masses  and 
movements  in  all  their  variety  and  perfect  relation  and 
proportion  to  one  another  and  to  gravity,  in  exact 
size,  form,  and  expression  as  a  whole,  maintaining  the 
figure  or  group  poised  in  the  altitude  desired.  This 
is  done  at  one  sitting  of  from  fifteen  to  thirty  minutes, 
without  incommoding  the  sitter. 

“  The  basis  thus  established  by  a  given  number  of 
points,  the  sculptor  proceeds  to  work  out  the  forms 
thus  mathematically  designated,  requiring  nature  for 
the  smaller  details  only.  He  accomplishes  his  work 
in  far  less  time  than  by  the  common  method,  and  with 
far  more  perfect  results. 

“  As  a  scale  measures  planes  in  geometry,  so  does 
this  instrument  measure  cubes  in  all  their  complexity 
of  forms,  from  either  inanimate  objects  or  living  intel¬ 
ligence  in  any  altitude  or  expression;  and  transfers 
them  to  other  substance.  The  ordinary  workman  can 


164 


ART-HINTS. 


execute  in  great  part  the  labor  which  the  sculptor  only 
hitherto  could  perform. 

“  As  the  ideal  is  produced  from  the  actual,  let  the 
best  actuality  be  perfectly  produced  from  life  with  the 
instrument ;  then  the  artist  will  have  more  perfect 
material  from  which  to  select  and  build  his  more  per¬ 
fect  ideal. 

“  The  instrument  will  also  perfectly  copy  the  great 
works,  such  as  the  Laocoon,  Apollo,  Venus,  &c.,  with¬ 
out  encumbering  or  injuring  them  in  the  least,  which 
is  not  now  allowed,  because  the  old  method  by  callipers 
would  mar  them.  Casts  from  them  are  so  imperfect, 
and  the  inaccurate  copying  with  the  callipers  from  the 
casts  makes  so  many  departures  from  the  originals, 
that  copies,  as  hitherto  made,  are  of  little  value. 

“  The  instrument  also  mathematically  copies  the 
sculptor’s  own  productions,  relieving  him  of  the  neces¬ 
sity  of  working  upon  the  marble ;  because,  when  his 
model  is  completed,  his  workman  can  execute  it 
equally  as  well  as  himself.  If  defects  be  found  in 
the  marble,  they  can  be  cut  away  to  tbe  last  frac¬ 
ture  of  its  dimensions,  as  the  basis  of  the  measure¬ 
ments  are  not  taken,  as  in  the  old  way,  from  the  block 
itself. 

“  Thus  the  sculptor  can  produce  his  models  in 
America  or  elsewhere,  and  send  them  to  be  wrought 
out  where  labor  and  material  are  cheaper,  without 
the  necessity  of  laboring  upon  them  himself ;  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  165 

measures  or  points  being  exact  and  fixed,  there  can  be 
no  departure  from  them,  and  hence  no  necessity,  as 
often  arises  in  the  old  way,  of  compromising  the  entire 
harmony  of  proportions  to  avoid  some  bad  pointing  in 
parts.  The  workman  also,  besides  being  mathemati¬ 
cally  accurate  in  his  points,  can  produce  two  in  the 
time  required  for  one  in  the  old  way.” 

Did  Mr.  Hart  confine  himself  to  claiming  for  his 
invention  all  that  he  does  as  a  copyist,  or  as  an  aid  in 
securing  form  and  expression,  whereby  much  time  and 
labor  are  saved,  and  consequently  the  sculptor’s  art 
cheapened  as  to  cost,  and  made  more  true  to  external 
likeness,  I  could  assent  to  his  views.  But  he  makes  a 
fatal  mistake  to  the  dignity  of  his  art  in  also  reducing 
it  to  a  system  of  external  measurements,  believing,  as 
he  undoubtedly  does,  that  “beauty,  expression,  and 
character  ”  can  all  be  reproduced  in  material  through 
the  agency  of  a  machine.  This  is  but  another  de¬ 
velopment  of  the  common  error  of  the  age,  by  which 
mere  science  is  made  paramount  to  spirit,  and  all 
phenomena  of  the  soul  resolvable  into  her  laws  ;  thus 
creating  nature  or  matter,  the  god  of  the  universe.  It 
proceeds  from  the  popular  system  of  reasoning  from 
the  external  to  the  internal.  Now  although,  as  I 
have  before  said,  spirit  can  be  known  only  through 
substance,  yet  it  is  something  apart  from  matter ;  it  is 
its  vitality  or  governing  principle.  The  aim  of  the 
artist  is  not,  therefore,  to  be  confined  to  mere  elegance 


166 


ART-HINTS. 


of  proportions,  beauty  of  contour,  or  tenderness  and 
harmony  of  hues  for  their  own  sakes ;  but  he  is  to 
make  them  glow  with  the  governing  principle  of  life, 
the  soul’s  vitality,  by  which  its  image  is  reflected 
through  outward  shape  and  hue.  Hence  these  latter 
may  be  accurately  rendered  by  measurement,  so  that 
no  eye  or  instrument  can  detect  any  discrepancy  of 
proportion  or  parts  between  them  and  their  originals, 
and  yet  the  Art  be  lifeless  in  comparison  with  Nature. 
Imitation  in  Art  should  be  confined  to  external  quali¬ 
ties.  When  the  artist  seeks  to  imitate  spiritual  truth, 
or  even  intellectual  emotion,  he  necessarily  fails,  be¬ 
cause  their  subtle  principles  can  only  be  suggested, 
and  not  represented.  His  work  must  actually  glow 
with  the  feeling  from  his  own  mind  of  the  great  truth 
or  thought  which  he  wishes  to  reflect  in  his  material. 
Matter  is  but  the  clothing  of  spirit,  and  of  itself  life¬ 
less  ;  the  soul  only  illumines  its  surface,  and  causes  its 
action.  But  in  the  body  we  see  only  with  our  natural 
eyes,  and  measure  only  with  our  natural  hands  ;  con¬ 
sequently,  if  we  undertake  to  measure  spirit  by  the  aid 
of  matter,  we  undertake  an  impossibility.  We  mistake 
its  effects  for  the  cause,  and  substitute  the  grossness  of 
the  material  for  the  refinement  of  spirit.  Whoever, 
therefore,  works  on  this  principle,  however  successful 
in  delineating  the  mere  harmonies  of  flesh  and  blood, 
will  fail  in  high  Art.  He  goes  astray,  because  he 
works  from  a  wrong  principle.  It  requires  the  same 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  107 

responsive  truth  in  the  sculptor  to  light  up  his  marble 
with  life  as  it  does  the  painter  in  his  portrait.  No 
machine  can  model  an  idea,  or  fill  an  hiatus  of  the 
imagination.  When  we  succeed  in  measuring  a  soul, 
then,  and  not  until  then,  we  may  be  able  to  reduce 
sculpture  to  a  mechanical  art.1 

Sculpture  that  violates  our  sympathies  by  unneces¬ 
sary  pain,  that  does  not  suggest  more  than  it  exhibits 
in  shape,  that  does  not  throw  all  its  action  towards  the 
central  idea,  that  pays  not  more  attention  to  the  soul 
than  to  the  body,  and  more  to  the  body  than  to  its 
garments,  is  the  work  of  feebleness,  whatever  may  be 
its  merits  of  finish.  It  is  great  only  in  proportion  to  the 
greatness  of  its  idea,  and  the  harmony  of  all  the  detail 
with  that  idea.  The  unity  of  sculpture  lies  both  in 
the  unison  of  sentiments  or  passions  to  the  chief 
thought  and  the  subtle  proportion  of  the  material  parts 
of  the  whole.  Its  variety  lies  within  the  circle  of 
human  action,  though  imagination,  fancy,  and  nature 
at  large  supply  an  infinite  variety  of  forms  for  its 

1  Mr.  Hart  has  been  very  successful  -with  his  busts,  aided  no 
doubt,  in  all  that  mechanics  can  do,  by  his  invention.  Indeed  one 
of  his  busts,  recently  taken  from  life  and  idealized  by  him  into  a 
Juno,  is  strikingly  beautiful  and  harmonious,  -with  much  tenderness 
of  surface,  and  glowing  with  vitality  from  within.  But  I  see  in  its 
higher  qualities  more  of  the  feeling  of  the  artist  derived  from  him¬ 
self,  than  the  imitative  capacities  of  his  invention.  He  is  disposed 
to  exalt  that  at  the  expense  of  his  own  merit,  in  those  points  which, 
as  I  have  remarked,  no  machine  can  express,  from  a  general  prin¬ 
ciple  of  Nature,  that  power  proceeds  invariably  from  the  higher 
principle  to  the  lower,  and  never  the  reverse. 


1G8 


ART-HINTS. 


exercise.  Still  its  inspiration  lies  chiefly  in  thought, 
and  its  value  in  its  sincerity.  Wherever  we  see  more 
of  the  sculptor  or  his  material  than  the  idea,  we  may 
be  assured  of  his  insincerity.  Vanity  and  vulgarity 
are  as  legible  upon  marble  as  upon  canvas. 

The  true  test  of  the  power  of  sculpture  is  in  its 
repose.  We  then  feel  that  all  its  parts  and  motives 
are  in  unity.  They  affect  the  mind  as  do  the  grand 
features  of  the  landscape.  We  can  no  more  escape 
from  the  impression  produced  by  perfect  statuary  than 
we  can  from  the  effects  of  uttered  thought:  eternity 
will  still  find  it  in  our  companionship. 

Art  has  its  limitations  not  only  in  absolute  choice  of, 
but  in  the  use  of  material,  as  regards  subjects.  Paint¬ 
ing  has  a  wider  field  than  sculpture,  but  there  are  cir¬ 
cumstances  of  the  greatest  interest  as  related  in  lan¬ 
guage,  which  fail  in  painting  from  want  of  sufficient 
action  to  make  the  idea  intelligible.  A  battle,  a  ship¬ 
wreck,  a  landscape,  or  a  portrait  tells  its  own  story  ; 
but  let  a  man  who  has  never  read  the  American 
history,  see,  for  the  first  time,  the  national  painting  of 
the  ‘  Declaration  of  Independence,’  and  it  would  be 
to  him  nothing  more  than  a  circle  of  plain -dressed, 
intellectual-looking  gentlemen,  gathered  about  a  table 
to  sign  some  important  document ;  it  would  interest 
him  no  more  than  a  committee  on  duty,  or  a  court  in 
session.  Enlighten  him  as  to  the  history,  then  his 
imagination  comes  into  play,  and  the  picture  is  invested 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  169 

from  his  mind  with  that  interest  which  it  was  incapable, 
by  itself,  of  conveying  to  his  mind.  Such  a  painting 
may  be  valuable  as  a  collection  of  portraits,  but  as  an 
evidence  of  high  Art,  it  fails  from  selection  of  subject. 

Many  of  the  failures  of  sculpture  may  be  traced  to 
equal  inaptness  of  subject,  though  great  genius  will 
do  much  to  invest  with  interest  the  most  unpro¬ 
mising  ;  ordinary  minds,  however,  oftener  shipwreck 
them.  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  the  selection  as 
well  as  the  treatment  of  the  subject  requires  great 
judgment. 

The  material  which  is  good  for  one  subject  is  fre 
quently  bad  for  another ;  on  the  grounds  of  fitness  and 
situation.  Bronze  is  superior  to  marble  for  certain 
character  of  ornament  and  expression ;  and  the  con¬ 
trary.  A  suitable  subject  for  a  cameo  might  be  very 
unfit  for  elevated  painting,  or  for  heroic  sculpture. 

Size,  too,  has  an  important  bearing  on  Art.  That 
which  looks  well  on  a  small  scale  in  one  material,  be¬ 
comes  ridiculous  when  enlarged  in  another.  This  is 
particularly  true  of  the  merely  ornamental.  Perfect 
grace  and  majesty  may  be  expressed  in  Lilliputian 
size,  provided  the  proportions  of  the  parts  are  perfectly 
preserved.  A  figure  may  even  be  colossal  throughout, 
and  yet  require  a  magnifying-glass  to  exhibit  its  accu¬ 
racy  of  proportions.  A  colossal  statue,  in  its  heroic 
acceptation,  is  not,  however,  to  be  created  by  merely 
exaggerating  the  natural  size  ;  we  should  simply  arrive 

I 


170 


ART-HINTS. 


at  an  overgrown  man,  a  giant  perhaps,  but  not  to  the 
superhuman  grandeur  of  a  colossus.  A  mathematically- 
enlarged  man-model  will  not  make  an  heroic  statue, 
unless  the  intellectual  proportions  be  correspondingly 
elevated ;  otherwise  the  harmony  between  physical 
size  and  mental  grandeur  is  lost,  and  the  result  be  a 
mammoth  fool.  Neither  can  we  get  at  the  human 
form  so  as  to  preserve  a  unity  with  the  face  by  working 
from  the  outside,  inwardly  ;  paying  more  attention  to 
the  labor  of  the  tailor  than  the  work  of  God.  Clothing 
is  a  mere  contingent  of  sculpture. 

These  are  all  important  considerations  for  both 
artists  and  amateurs  whose  aim  is  excellence.  Artists, 
however,  are  often  inappreciated  from  their  works 
being  placed  in  positions  or  lights  for  which  they  were 
never  intended.  To  judge  fairly  of  Art,  it  should  be 
seen  at  home,  that  is,  in  exactly  the  spot  and  under  the 
circumstances  for  which  it  was  made ;  otherwise  we 
may  go  away  not  only  with  wrong  impressions  of  the 
artist,  hut  with  a  wrong  lesson  to  ourselves.  It  is  of 
importance,  too,  that  a  lover  of  Art  should  know,  him¬ 
self,  the  conditions  necessary  for  best  exhibiting  its 
works ;  these  may  be  termed  the  truths  of  adaption. 
A  little  experience  and  study  of  the  effects  of  light 
and  shadow  will  solve  any  difficulties  of  this  nature, 
keeping  in  view  the  Art-idea.  That  which  is  made  to 
be  seen  near  to,  should  not  be  placed  above  and  out  of 
sight,  as  are  the  best  statues  of  the  Milan  Cathedral ; 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  171 

nor  that  which  should  be  seen  above,  as  was  intended 
Michael  Angelo’s  Moses,  be  placed  on  a  level  with 
our  eyes.  No  artist  suffers  more  from  misplacement 
than  Michael  Angelo.  Position  to  him  is  all  important 
to  render  his  designs  effective.  His  defective  draw¬ 
ing,  exaggerated  anatomy,  and  harsh  coloring,  seen  at 
the  distance  intended  by  him,  lose  much  of  their  unna¬ 
tural  character ;  yet,  unlike  the  best  works  of  Greece, 
there  is  in  him  more  that  is  monstrous  than  truly 
grand  in  style,  made  worse  often  by  being  studied  at 
ten  feet  off,  when  intended  to  have  been  seen  only  at 
fifty.  The  finish  and  proportion  of  parts  depend 
greatly  upon  the  distance  and  elevation  for  which  they 
are  intended.  If  the  eye  is  puzzled  or  wearied  in 
reading  sculpture,  or  distracted  to  parts,  it  is  a  sign 
that  it  is  either  wrongly  placed,  or  over-finished  in 
detail.  Ornament  is  worse  than  useless  that  does  not 
correctly  meet  the  vision  ;  its  whole  purpose  is  lost, 
and  the  artist  has  thrown  his  power  to  the  winds.1 


1  No  principle  in  Art  is  more  subtle,  and  yet  effective,  than 
correct  proportion.  In  the  degree  it  is  reached  we  find  an  obvious 
pleasure,  though  we  are  not  always  able  to  define  either  the  cause 
or  its  laws.  That  there  must  exist  in  nature  universal  rules  of  pro¬ 
portion  applicable  to  each  class  of  subjects  is  evident.  To  the 
extent  these  rules  are  departed  from  we  lose  pleasure  in  Art.  This 
is  particularly  true  of  Sculpture.  Yet  few  are  able  to  define  its 
correct  standard.  Many  theories  of  the  true  human  proportions  have 
been  in  vogue,  but  no  one  strikes  me  as  so  simple  and  applicable 
as  the  following,  adopted  by  William  Page,  of  Rome.  He  should 
expound  it  to  the  world  in  the  scientific  manner  of  which  no  artist 
is  more  capable.  Simply  and  untechnicaily  the  principle  is  this  ; 


172 


ART-HINTS. 


Briefly  to  recapitulate  the  most  important  truths  of 
this  chapter,  X  would  say,  that  Great  Art  is  the  result 
only  of  the  noblest  powers  directed  to  the  highest  ends. 
As  it  requires  the  whole  mind  of  the  artist  to  create  it, 
so  it  requires  the  whole  understanding  of  equal  minds 
to  fully  comprehend  it.  Cultivation  of  the  soul  to  the 
fullest  expansion  of  all  its  faculties  is  the  sole  key 
which  will  unlock  to  us  its  entire  treasures.  The 
common  mind  at  first  sees  blindly ;  but  if  it  possess 
feeling  and  capacity,  it  will  be  attracted,  and  return 
again  and  again  to  Art,  until  it  has  raised  itself  to  a 
level  with  its  truth. 


divide  the  human  figure  into  three  equal  parts,  so  that  the  first, 
commencing  at  the  crown  of  the  head,  terminates  at  the  pit  of  the 
stomach,  following  the  true  waist  round  ;  let  an  equal  length  reach 
the  insertion  of  the  muscles  of  the  leg,  just  above  the  kneepan ; 
thence  to  the  heel  for  the  third  part.  Grandeur  and  grace  are 
attained  in  the  degree  this  rule  is  followed.  The  most  perfect 
exemplification  is  in  the  figure  known  as  the  Egyptian  Apollo. 
However  much  reduced,  it  retains  its  beauty  and  dignity,  provided 
these  three  equal  anatomical  divisions  are  preserved.  It  is  supposed 
that  the  Greeks,  in  their  best  works,  derived  this  standard  from  the 
Egyptians.  The  original  authors  could  have  arrived  at  it  only  by 
careful  comparison  of  proportions  of  the  best-formed  of  the  human 


race. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  173 


CHAPTER  XI. 

SCHOOLS  OF  ART — GREECE,  ROME,  AND  CONSTANTINOPE. 

Art  generically,  as  I  shall  term  the  character  which 
it  assumed  in  the  different  stages  of  its  progress  as 
represented  by  schools,  is  an  important  branch  of  in¬ 
quiry.  Artists,  as  a  class,  have  rarely  been  able  to 
control  and  direct  the  public  mind.  With  but  indi¬ 
vidual  exceptions  they  have  always  succumbed  to 
external  pressure.  In  every  age  Art  has  been  the 
embodiment  of  either  the  democratic,  religious,  or 
aristocratic  idea ;  that  is  to  say,  the  people,  priestcraft, 
and  rulers, -have  alternately  given  it  direction. 

The  style  and  thought  of  the  various  schools  which 
have  arisen  among  the  several  nations  that  have  de¬ 
veloped  Art,  will  be  found  to  be  characterized  in  a 
great  degree  by  the  prevailing  sentiment  of  their  era, 
varying  in  choice  and  treatment  of  subjects  according 
to  the  fluctuations  of  morals  and  education.  At  no 
time  has  Art  been  entirely  free.  Perhaps  it  is  too 
much  to  expect  that  it  will  ever  wholly  liberate  itself 


174 


ART-HINTS. 


from  human  prejudice  or  infirmity,  and  rise  to  its 
legitimate  position  of  an  incorruptible  teacher  of  Truth 
and  expounder  of  Beauty.  The  utmost  that  can  be 
rationally  hoped  for  it,  is,  that  good  taste  may  be  so 
diffused  as  to  create  a  demand  for  excellence,  and  a 
prompt  rejection  of  artifice.  Great  minds  only  can  so 
impress  the  common  mind  as  to  lead  it  steadily  for¬ 
ward  in  the  road  of  good  taste.  Their  task  is  a 
gigantic  one,  owing  to  the  eccentricity  of  popular 
impulses,  and  the  diligence  of  weaker  minds,  who,  not 
content  with  being  wrong  themselves,  are  ever  striving 
to  draw  others  after  them.  Then  too,  as  has  been 
shown  in  the  earlier  chapters,  state  policy  and  priestly 
guile  are  perpetually  on  the  alert  to  corrupt  so  power¬ 
ful  an  agency  into  the  furthering  of  their  designs. 
Yet  with  all  these  drawbacks,  we  constantly  see  in 
Art  signs  of  promise.  Her  struggles  are  incessant  to 
escape  from  the  snares  in  her  path,  and  her  progress, 
as  a  whole,  may  be  said  to  be  onward.  Every  lofty 
development  of  genius  in  schools  becomes  a  stimulus 
to  greater  exertion.  It  is  true  many  ages  may  yet 
pass  before  certain  past  excellence  is  again  rivalled, 
but  the  standard  it  creates  fixes  itself  indelibly  upon 
the  human  mind,  which  contents  itself  permanently 
with  nothing  inferior.  Whatever  degree  of  perfection, 
in  their  particular  studies  classicalism  arrived  at,  we 
seek  for  ;  so  of  medievalism  ;  thus  modernism  has  the 
threefold  advantage  of  possessing  not  only  her  own 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  175 

artistic  energies  and  aspirations,  but  also  the  ex¬ 
perience  and  progress  of  those  two  great  eras  of  Art. 

Schools  of  Art  had  their  origin  in  individual  talent, 
fostered  by  public  patronage  to  a  degree  which  exalted 
the  private  taste  or  particular  excellence  of  the  artist 
into  a  rule,  as  it  were,  for  his  immediate  neighborhood 
or  generation.  They  have  all  been  more  or  less  par¬ 
tial  in  their  scope,  owing  to  the  particular  direction 
given  to  the  genius  of  their  founders  which  continued 
to  affect  their  pupils,  until  an  equal  or  superior  ijiind 
arising,  forced  the  bias  of  his  own  method  upon  his 
generation,  and  thus  modified  the  old  or  created  a 
new  school.  My  remarks  will  apply  mainly  to  paint¬ 
ing.  Sculpture  and  architecture  will  be  glanced  at 
incidentally,  only  as  connected  with  painting  in  the 
various  Art-changes  of  past  time. 

By  whom  painting  was  first  practised  is  an  inquiry 
of  no  moment.  It  is  probable  that  every  nation,  how¬ 
ever  barbarous,  sought,  in  its  artificial  productions,  to 
rival  the  colors  of  nature.  We  see  among  all  savages 
the  same  innate  love  of  bright  hues  and  violent  con¬ 
trasts.  Expression,  however,  first  took  the  form  of 
sculpture.  Painting  was  largely  used  as  an  accessory. 
Almost  all  of  the  earliest  architecture  and  domestic 
utensils  with  which  we  are  acquainted,  such  as  those  of 
Nineveh,  Egypt,  and  Etruria,  were  profusely  adorned 
with  brilliant  paint,  laid  on  without  reference  to  natu¬ 
ral  hues,  but  evidently  from  no  other  motive  than  love 


176 


ART-HINTS. 


of  positive  colors.  These  early  efforts  of  an  impulsive 
feeling  for  color  are  too  nearly  allied  to  the  untutored 
labors  of  all  barbarous  nations,  to  be  dignified  as 
painting.  They  were  merely  its  alphabet.  Its  pro¬ 
fessors  were  just  learning  to  spell,  even  while  sculp¬ 
ture  and  architecture  had  risen  to  a  certain  degree  of 
eminence.  Still  there  were  striking  analogies  between 
all  three  in  their  simplicity,  serenity,  grandeur,  and 
sincerity. 

Ezekiel1  informs  us  that  the  Jews  were  acquainted 
with  portraiture,  but  it  was  evidently  of  the  simplest 
character,  such  as  we  still  see  in  the  tombs  of  Egypt. 
They  saw  “  men  portrayed  upon  the  wall,  the  images 
of  Chaldeans,  portrayed  with  vermilion,  girded  with 
girdles  upon  their  loins,  exceeding  in  dyed  attire  upon 
their  heads.”  The  oriental  fondness  for  pure  color  is 
here  strikingly  manifested.  The  oldest-known  por¬ 
traits  are  found  in  the  monuments  of  Egypt,  dating 
back  5,300  years.  They  are  flat  profiles,  without  per¬ 
spective,  brightly  colored,  and  the  eye  given  in  full. 

The  early  efforts  of  the  Grecians  were  undoubtedly 
equally  rude.  Their  rapid  advances  towards  perfection 
in  sculpture  are  sufficiently  attested  by  the  noble 
works  which  have  reached  our  time,  and  indeed  form 
both  the  basis  and  rule  of  our  sculptural  art.  Of  their 
success  in  painting  we  unfortunately  know  less.  The 
fame  of  their  great  painters  has  alone  descended  to  us. 

1  Chap,  xxiii.  ver.  14. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  177 

Few  names  of  modern  times  have  equal  celebrity  with 
the  old  Greek  artists,  Parrhasius,  Zeuxis,  Protogenes, 
and  Apelles.  We  are  compelled,  however,  to  receive 
their  reputations  on  hearsay,  as  nothing  remains  of 
their  works. 

The  disentombment  of  Pompeii,  Herculaneum,  and 
the  discovery  of  certain  mosaics,  as  well  as  the  contents 
of  classical  tombs,  have  thrown  some  light  upon  the 
character  of  this  branch  of  Art  among  the  Greeks  and 
Romans.  In  execution  we  find  an  oriental  partiality 
for  positive  colors ;  gradations  or  neutral  tints  rarely 
attempted,  and  an  exaggeration  of  parts  for  particular 
effects.  Unity  and  harmony,  in  the  broad  modern  sig¬ 
nification,  are  but  little  attended  to,  while  we  see  much 
incorrect  drawing  and  general  faultiness  of  perspective. 
In  short,  such  ancient  paintings  as  we  possess  will  not 
endure  criticism,  as  a  whole,  in  the  complete  details  of 
modern  executive  Art.  Yet  with  all  the  violations  of 
the  simplest  rules  of  painting,  there  is  much  vigor, 
originality,  thought,  and  skill.  Some  of  the  pictures 
at  Pom«pei.i  seem  to  have  been  managed  with  a  degree 
of  knowledge  as  to  the  effects  of  distance  worthy 
of  a  Turner.  Approached  near  to,  they  exhibit 
nothing  but  meaningless  spots  of  color.  Seen  in 
their  correct  position,  a  tolerable  landscape  comes 
into  view. 

Art  was  united  with  manufacture,  which,  indeed, 
appeared  to  derive  its  chief  value  from  the  former. 

j* 


178 


ART-HINTS. 


with  the  Greeks  and  Romans  in  their  domestic  utensils, 
to  a  degree  quite  unknown  among  the  moderns.  Many 
of  these  articles  had  an  established  form,  or  figurative 
ornament,  in  which  beauty  and  allegory  were  happily 
combined.  In  this  manner  those  nations  surrounded 
themselves  in  their  households  with  objects  which  per¬ 
petually  recalled  their  poetical  or  sensuous  faiths,  and 
kept  alive  their  sensibility  to  artistic  beauty. 

In  the  reign  of  Augustus  it  became  fashionable  for 
the  first  time  to  cover  the  entire  walls  of  rooms  with 
landscapes  and  historical  or  mythological  scenes.  Pre¬ 
vious  to  this  the  walls  were  painted  in  simple  color, 
relieved  by  capricious  designs.  We  have  no  specimens 
of  the  easel  paintings  of  the  ancients.  Multitudes, 
however,  of  encaustics — colors  prepared  in  a  mixture 
of  wax  and  oil — and  frescoes  have  been  discovered  in 
the  lava-buried  towns  of  Campania.  Perhaps  these 
should  not  be  considered  as  the  highest  effort  of  Greco- 
Roman  Art,  from  the  fact  of  having  been  found  in 
provincial  cities  of  comparatively  little  importance ; 
yet  they  are  the  only  clue  we  possess  to  the  general 
knowledge  and  principles  of  ancient  painting. 

The  perfection  of  classical  sculpture  is  by  no  means 
the  rule  for  classical  painting.  Before  painting  had 
advanced  beyond  flat  outline,  the  most  perfect  statuary 
of  Greece  had  been  produced.  Apollodorus  and 
Zeuxis  were  the  first  painters  who  comprehended  light 
and  shadow  in  Art.  The  difficulty  of  arriving  in  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  179 

latter  to  an  equal  excellence  with  the  former,  evidently 
arose  less  from  a  want  of  correct  feeling  for  its  highest 
expression,  than  from  an  ignorance  of  detail  and  ma¬ 
nagement  of  materials.  Their  best  pictures  are  often 
gracefully  composed  and  vigorously  expressed,  show¬ 
ing  great  truth  of  outline,  much  humor  or  fancy,  and 
evidences  of  a  fertile  and  powerful  imagination.  They 
exhibit,  indeed,  more  of  the  particular  excellence  of 
their  statuary  Art,  than  that  which  more  properly 
characterizes  painting.  Scrupulous  attention  is,  how¬ 
ever,  sometimes  paid  to  the  management  of  details  and 
accessories,  particularly  in  mosaics,  in  which  the  groups 
are  finely  put  together,  the  draperies  often  elegant, 
and  the  lights  and  shadows  cleverly  managed. 

If  we  may  rely  on  the  testimony  of  the  ancients 
themselves,  their  first  masters  produced  prodigies  of 
Art.  But  while  allowing  them  every  credit  for  the 
higher  qualities  of  invention  and  composition,  I  am  not 
disposed  to  consider  the  excessive  eulogiums  of  their 
classical  writers,  who  have  spoken  of  the  celebrated 
pictures  of  antiquity,  as  proof  of  equal  merit  with  modern 
Art  in  its  more  comprehensive  detail.  Zeuxis  had  so 
high  an  opinion  of  his  own  works,  that  at  last  he  refused 
to  sell  them,  but  gave  them  away,  saying  that  they 
were  above- all  price.  The  little  that  we  know  of  the 
ancient  masterpieces  is  derived  from  Pausanias  and 
Pliny,  and  some  remarks  of  Cicero.  But  to  me,  their 
extravagant  praises  are  rather  evidence  of  the  com- 


180 


ART-HINTS. 


parative  novelty  and  rapid  progress  of  their  Art  than 
ot  its  perfection.  The  spectators  of  the  nineteenth 
century  smile  when  they  contrast  Cimabue’s  Madonna 
with  the  enthusiastic  welcome  it  received  from  the  Art- 
judges  of  the  thirteenth.  The  first  great  steps  in 
invention  in  Art  are  always  hailed  with  wonder,  from 
contrast  with  preceding  poverty  or  feebleness.  Their 
after-progress  being  less  marked,  although  constantly 
advancing  towards  perfection,  creates  but  little  popular 
sensation. 

For  the  first  six  hundred  years  of  their  national  ex¬ 
istence,  the  Romans  were  mere  barbarians  in  Art. 
Their  soldiers  wantonly  destroyed  both  the  pictures 
and  statues  of  Greece.  After  the  capture  of  Corinth, 
innumerable  treasures  of  taste  were  sent  to  Rome,  and 
their  exhibition  gave  its  citizens  their  first  ideas  of 
Art.  But  so  little  was  even  their  general,  Mummius, 
aqquainted  with  the  value  of  the  statues  and  pictures, 
whose  beauty  for  the  first  time  captivated  his  eye,  that 
he  required  of  those  charged  with  their  conveyance,  in 
case  of  loss  or  injury,  that  they  should  furnish  neiv. 
Grecian  artists  were  also  transported  to  Rome,  and 
either  sold  as  slaves,  or  reduced  to  the  condition  of 
artisans.  Deprived  of  their  personal  freedom,  and 
those  sources  of  inspiration  derived  from  national  inde¬ 
pendence,  their  Art  degenerated  into  mere  imitation. 
Great  works  and  magnificent  temples  were,  indeed, 
erected  under  the  authority  of  the  emperors ;  but  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  181 

true  greatness  of  Roman  Art  lay  not  in  copying 
Greece,  but  in  its  own  grand  architectural  creations. 
While  sculpture  flourished  at  Rome,  painting  was 
neglected  to  such  a  degree,  that  even  in  presence  of 
several  of  the  much-lauded  masterpieces  of  Greece, 
which  were  deposited  in  the  temples,  it  was  reduced  to 
the  level  of  a  servile  trade.  This  fact  alone  would 
seem  to  confirm  the  comparative  inferiority  of  classical 
painting  to  its  sculpture. 

The  subjects  of  the  ancients  were  confined  to  a  much 
narrower  compass  than  are  the  modern.  There  are,  con¬ 
sequently,  more  sameness  and  repetition  in  their  Art. 
It  is,  however,  deeply  imbued  with  their  sensuous,  re¬ 
ligious  mind,  passing,  by  almost  imperceptible  changes, 
from  the  loftiest  expressions  of  human  emotion  and  the 
unspiritual  heroism  of  their  earthly  divinities,  in  all 
their  beauteous  intellectuality  and  forms,  to  the  vulgar 
field  of  fleshly  weaknesses  and  the  corruptions  of  bodily 
lusts.  Its  better  expression  was  eminently  poetical ; 
but  in  the  lower  it  partook  of  the  selfishness  and  de¬ 
gradation  of  the  masses,  with  no  higher  aim  in  either, 
than  to  excite  the  intellect,  amuse  the  senses,  or  arouse 
the  passions.  There  are  in  it — as  in  the  Sacrifice  of 
Iphigenia ;  Medea  meditating  the  murder  of  her 
children  ;  and  Leda  presenting  her  three  offspring, 
Castor,  Pollux,  and  Helen,  to  her  husband,  Tynda- 
rus— moments  of  lofty  self-sacrificing  enthusiasm,  of 
high  tragical  import,  and  of  sweet  domesticity,  given 


182 


ART-HINTS. 


with  much  spirit  and  freedom.  The  ancients  under¬ 
stood  better  the  spiritual  portraying  of  their  subjects 
than  their  mechanical  execution.  We  find  in  their 
Art  a  marked  central  point,  to  which  the  common 
interest  and  lesser  individualities  tend ;  a  nice  distri¬ 
bution  of  attributes,  subtle  discrimination  of  character 
and  all  those  higher  artistic  truths  which  complete  the 
unity  and  fix  the  attention  upon  the  story.  Their 
knowledge,  however,  of  painting  as  a  whole  was 
limited  in  comparison  with  modern  attainments. 

The  establishment  of  Christianity  as  a  political  in¬ 
stitution  in  the  fourth  century  proved  the  destruction 
of  the  ancient  schools  of  Art.  They  had  long  been  on 
the  decline,  chiefly  from  the  decadence  of  belief  in  the 
mythology,  from  which  they  had  mainly  derived  their 
sustenance.  In  the  struggle  between  the  old.  and  new 
forms  of  worship,  carvers  of  images  were  in  the  outset 
considered  as  agents  of  the  devil.  They  were  refused 
baptism  and  permission  to  pursue  their  avocation. 
The  hatred  against  idols  extended  to  works  innocent 
of  any  claims  to  sanctity.  Not  only  were  the  temples 
injured  by  the  fervor  of  the  reaction  against  paganism, 
and  every  work  of  art  that  recalled  the  detested 
mythology  of  the  past,  but  even  the  busts  and  statues 
of  celebrated  men  which  decorated  the  public  edifices 
were  often  wantonly  destroyed. 

The  love  of  Art  was,  however,  too  deeply  implanted 
in  the  ancient  mind  to  be  wholly  eradicated.  Gra- 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  180 

dually  old  tastes  and  natural  instincts  came  again  into 
play.  Art  was,  however,  purified  as  far  as  possible 
from  pagan  taint  and  adapted  to  the  new  forms  of 
worship.  Still,  much  of  its  knowledge  and  many  of 
its  forms  were  necessarily  borrowed  from  the  schools 
of  the  past.  In  the  infancy  of  knowledge,  before 
printing  had  made  its  essence  as  free  and  intelligible 
as  speech,  ideas  were  often  conveyed  through  the 
forms  of  symbols  or  allegory.  To  the  modern  mind 
this  mode  of  expressing  abstract  thought  is  in  a  great 
degree  tedious  and  unprofitable,  because  we  have 
better  methods  of  conveying  instruction.  Not  so  to  the 
ancient  mind.  That  was  educated  to  interpret  their 
language  as  readily  as  we  peruse  a  newspaper.  Con¬ 
sequently  what  to  us  is  expressive  only  of  cold  reason, 
often  far-fetched  and  difficult  to  comprehend,  wras  to 
them  living  faith.  The  eagle  and  thunderbolt  were 
emblematic  of  powrer.  The  rod  with  two  serpents, 
of  commerce,  because  Mercury  was  god  of  traffic. 
Strength,  or  Hercules,  was  known  by  the  club.  The 
griffin  wras  consecrated  to  Apollo.  Indeed,  the  defence 
which  Romanists  of  to-day  make  in  regard  to  their 
images  and  symbols  as  representative  only  of  sacred 
ideas  was  equally  true  of  ancient  rituals.  In  both, 
cases  only  the  common  mind  is  led  to  substitute  the 
sign  for  the  object,  but  in  both  the  tendency  has  ever 
been  to  idolatry.  The  Christians  altered  heathen 
symbols  to  conform  to  their  ideas.  Many  new  ones 


184 


ART  HINTS. 


were  adopted,  and  thus  a  numerous  class  of  sacred 
hieroglyphics  sprung  up,  which  have  not  yet  altogether 
lost  their  significance.  They  were  also  a  sacred  bond 
of  recognition  among  Christians.  The  principal  of 
these  signs  were  the  cross  and  monogram  of  Christ, 
— a  lamb — Christ  himself  as  a  sacrifice ;  the  dove 
represented  the  Holy  Ghost ;  eternity  was  known  by 
the  phoenix  or  peacock ;  watchfulness  as  a  cock ; 
worship  under  the  form  of  the  lyre  ;  the  palm,  victory 
and  resurrection. 

Previous  to  the  triumph  of  Christianity  much  of 
mythological  feeling  had  died  out  of  heathen  Art. 
Meleager,  Niobe,  Psyche,  Cupid,  and  other  fables,  had 
ceased  to  be  personal  histories,  appealing  to  the  heart. 
They  had  lapsed  into  conventional  forms  of  Art  em¬ 
bodying  destruction,  death,  futurity,  love,  and  other 
abstract  ideas.  Hence  the  Christians  were  less  averse 
to  revive  Art. 

Historical  Art  soon  established  itself  upon  the 
merely  symbolical.  About  the  time  of  Constantine 
we  find  pictures  of  the  Saviour  performing  miracles, 
but  no  representation  of  the  Passion  or  Crucifixion 
before  the  eighth  century.  The  reason  for  this  was 
probably  that  to  pagan  minds  Christ  was  more  con¬ 
vincing  through  his  divine  power  than  through  his 
human  suffering.  His  disciples  therefore  wisely  dwelt 
chiefly  upon  the  former  in  their  efforts  at  conversion. 
As  early  as  a.d.  230,  the  Emperor  Alexander  Severus 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  185 

placed  the  image  of  Jesus  Christ  in  his  private  temple 
alongside  of  the  statues  of  Apollonius  of  Tyana, 
Abraham,  and  Orpheus.  Nothing,  however,  is  posi¬ 
tively  known  of  his  personal  appearance.  The  received 
ideas  appear  derived  from  the  apocryphal  letter  of 
Lentulus  to  the  Roman  Senate.  It  was  written  in  the 
third  century,  and  probably  embodies  his  traditionary 
likeness.  “A  man  of  lofty  stature,  of  severe  and 
imposing  countenance,  inspiring  love  as  well  as  fear. 
His  hair  the  color  of  wine  (dark?),  straight,  and  with¬ 
out  lustre,  as  low  as  the  ears,  but  thence  glossy, 
flowing  upon  the  shoulders,  and  divided  down  the 
centre  of  the  head  after  the  manner  of  the  Nazarenes. 
The  forehead  is  smooth  and  serene,  the  face  without 
blemish,  of  a  pleasant,  slightly  ruddy  colour.  The 
expression  noble  and  engaging.  Nose  and  mouth  of 
perfect  form  ;  the  beard  abundant,  and  of  the  same 
color  as  the  hair,  parted  in  the  middle.  The  eyes 
blue  and  brilliant.  He  is  the  most  beautiful  among 
the  children  of  men.” 

Christian  Art  continued  pure  and  sincere  so  long  as 
it  was  the  secret  symbols  of  a  persecuted  sect;  but 
when  in  the  fourth  and  succeeding  centuries  the  Church 
rose  to  the  position  of  a  dominant  power,  it  became 
ostentatious  and  costly,  and  finally  false  and  corrupt. 
For  some  time,  however,  classical  knowledge  lingered 
amid  it,  gradually  growing  fainter,  until  its  pure 
forms,  chaste  draperies,  and  rare  skill,  were  wholly 


186 


ART-HINTS. 


extinguished  amid  Byzantine  ignorance  and  false 
feeling. 

The  best  mosaics  of  Roman  Christian  Art  are  the 
earliest,  such  as  are  still  to  be  seen  in  Santa  Maria 
Maggiore,  SS.  Cosimo  and  Damiano,  of  the  sixth 
century.  These  have  some  animation  and  expression, 
and  are  superior  in  design  and  draperies  compared 
with  later  works,  which  are  stiff,  gaunt,  and  immobile, 
showing  that  the  principles  of  Art  were  wholly  lost. 

In  architecture,  however,  there  arose  a  new  style, 
the  Lombard,  having  its  type  in  the  noble-arched 
buildings  of  Rome,  the  basilicas,  baths,  and  amphi¬ 
theatres,  whose  lofty  and  graceful  cur-ves  in  time- 
enduring  material  still  remain,  our  wonder  and  admi¬ 
ration.  With  the  exception  of  that  new  architecture, 
which  was  consecrated  to  religious  purposes, — in  the 
East  modified  from  its  stern  and  simple  northern 
element  by  Oriental  exuberance  of  fancy, — a  few 
missals,  and  an  occasional  gleaming  of  individual  talent 
which  cast  a  ray  of  light  into  the  general  darkness 
that  came  over  the  world  at  this  period,  there  is  nothing 
worthy  to  be  called  Art  that  arose  out  of  the  Byzantine 
school.  Its  prominent  feature  was  ugliness,  and  the 
service  to  which  it  was  applied,  Superstition.  Each 
figure  was  a  pictorial  dogma,  of  a  fixed  conventional 
form,  of  the  rudest  character,  and  which  the  artist 
dared  no  more  to  vary  than  he  would  have  an  article  of 
his  creed..  He  was  a  mere  instrument  to  repeat  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  187 

monotonous  and  stupid  tales  of  ignorant  monks. 
Sometimes  his  soul  partially  escaped  this  bondage, 
and  he  so  managed  in  mosaic  Art  to  present,  as  in 
the  sorrowful  Madonna  of  the  half-ruined  church 
of  Torcello,  near  Venice,  with  her  accumulated  so¬ 
lemnity  of  a  thousand  years,  figures  of  grand  and 
serious  import.  But  in  general  they  were  like  the 
tasteless  and  ill-favored  semi-human  types  that 
frown  upon  the  spectator  with  imbecile  dignity  from 
the  dome  of  the  Baptistery  at  Florence.  Almost  all 
of  the  libels  upon  Art,  those  grim  and  blackened 
virgins  which  Romanism  attributed  to  St.  Luke,  and 
religiously  preserves  from  vulgar  sight  to  be  dimly  ex¬ 
posed  only  under  cunningly-contrived  pretence  of 
miracles  to  extort  money  and  kisses  from  fools,  or  to 
impose  upon  their .  deluded  devotees  the  idea  that  a 
dirty  canvas  possesses  Divine  power,  are  legacies  from 
the  Byzantine  school,  and  inherit  its  ignorance  and 
falsity. 

Constantinople  sustained  its  school,  such  as  it  was, 
when  Rome  was  lost  even  in  name  to  Art.  The 
Byzantine  style,  strictly  so  called,  commenced  about 
the  fifth  century.  Springing  from  a  slavish  population, 
corrupt  court,  and  a  priesthood,  known  more  by  their 
perversion  than  by  their  devotion  to  Christianity,  it  is 
not  surprising  that  both  Art  and  Freedom  lost  ground. 
The  pertinacity  with  which  the  church  insisted  upon 
the  slavish  copying  of  the  types  is  forcibly  illustrated 


188 


ART-IIINTS. 


by  an  advocate  for  the  worship  of  images  at  the  Second 
Nicene  Council,  a.d.  787.  He  says, — “  It  is  not  the 
invention  of  the  painter  who  creates  the  picture,  but  an 
inviolable  law  or  tradition  of  the  Catholic  Church.  It 
is  not  the  painters  but  the  holy  fathers  who  have  to 
invent  and  to  dictate.  To  them  manifestly  belongs  the 
composition, — to  the  painter  only  the  execution.” 

This  bondage  of  Art  to  Superstition  obtains  to  the 
present  day  with  the  common  mind  in  Russia,  and 
generally  where  the  Greek  ritual  prevails.  In  the 
tenth  century,  particularly.  Art  was  allowed  only  in 
accordance  with  the  above  idea.  Consequently, 
paintings  manufactured  on  this  principle,  however 
much  destitute  of  genius  and  power,  were  honored  as 
essentially  sacred  ;  in  fact,  the  peasant  of  to-day  con¬ 
siders  them  as  having  power  to  charm  away  evil,  and 
avert  disaster.  He  carries  them  with  him  to  battle. 
The  churches  are  crammed  with  them.  They  open  to 
him  the  gates  of  Paradise.  He  cannot  have  too  many 
idols,  so  serviceable  to  his  temporal  and  eternal  in¬ 
terests.  Wherever  the  doctrine  of  absolute  obedience 
has  prevailed,  both  Art  and  Christianity  have  re¬ 
mained  immersed  in  ignorance  and  superstition.  This 
is  powerfully  illustrated  in  the  monastic  establishments 
in  Mount  Athos  in  Greece,  the  chief  school  of  painting 
of  this  style  for  thirteen  hundred  years.  It  became  a 
manufactory  where  pictures  innumerable  were  prepared 
by  written  receipts  for  grouping  and  coloring  with 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  189 

uniform  devices  and  inscriptions.  These  were  largely 
exported  as  merchandize  to  Russia  and  Turkey.  Many 
have  found  their  way  into  Italy,  and  possess  a  hold 
over  the  uneducated  mind,  which  can  only  be  ac¬ 
counted  for  on  the  general  principle,  that  like  seeks 
like.  Consequently  ignorance  and  ugliness  may  ever 
be  expected  to  react  upon  each  other  to  their  mutual 
extension. 

Amid,  however,  the  prevailing  spiritual  darkness, 
increased  by  the  curious  contests  of  the  iconoclasts  and 
their  adversaries,  deepened  by  those  rancorous  theolo¬ 
gical  disputations  peculiar  to  the  Lower  Empire,  and 
which  degraded  Christianity,  if  possible,  still  lower, 
there  existed  a  simple  religious  element  exhibited  in 
.Art,  which  could  have  had  its  origin  only  in  hearts 
that  were  sincere  and  pure. 

According  to  Rio,  in  his  admirable  work  of  the 
‘  Poetry  of  Christian  Art,’  the  majestic  figure  of 
Christ  in  mosaic  was  generally  placed  in  the  tribune, 
the  right  hand  resting  upon  the  book  of  life,  with  this 
inscription  in  large  characters — Ego  sum  Via,  Veritas 
et  Vita.1 

“  To  strike  the  imagination  of  the  faithful  upon 
entering  the  temple  by  the  image  of  the  God-man, 
whose  mediation  they  came  to  invoke,  to  enforce  this 
impression  Dy  three  words  which  admirably  expressed 
the  entire  mission  of  the  Mediator,  such  was  the  aim 

‘“lam  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life.” 


190 


ART-HINTS. 


of  Christian  Art  in  its  primitive  grandeur  and  sim¬ 
plicity.” 

Had  it  remained  faithful  to  its  office  of  interpreting 
Christian  truth  in  its  purity,  all  men  would  have  con¬ 
tinued  to  recognise  the  value  of  similar  types  in  a 
Christian  church,  especially  in  an  age  when  the  only 
means  of  impressing  the  general  mind  was  through 
verbal  discourse  or  pictorial  representations,  such  as 
the  mosaic  histories  of  St.  Mark’s  at  Venice,  by  which 
the  most  prominent  events  of  the  scriptural  narrative 
and  the  confession  of  Christian  faith  are  brought  home 
to  every  eye.  But  the  power  which  Art  thus  exercised 
was  speedily  perverted  by  the  pfiesthood. 

Christ  in  his  Divine  character  as  Mediator,  presented 
in  the  simplest  forms  of  Art,  in  a  material  in  which  . 
color  and  durability  were  typical  of  heaven  and  eternity, 
was  set  aside  for  the  intercessory  worship  of  the  Virgin 
and  Saints,  whose  favors  were  to  be  bought  by  gifts  to 
their  images  and  their  guardians. 

The  Roman  clergy,  losing  sight  of  the  primitive 
motives  for  the  introduction  of  pictorial  Art  into  their 
churches,  corrupted  its  use  into  idolatry  as  gross  as 
that  of  discarded  heathenism,  in  barter  for  lucre  and 
power.  There  is  no  sin  more  deadly,  or  for  which  the 
final  reckoning  will  be  more  severe,  than  this  perversion 
of  one  of  the  purest  emotions  of  the  heart  into  a 
grovelling  superstition.  With  it  came  the  increase  of 
images,  the  worship  of  relics,  and  the  entire  prostitution 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  191 

of  Art.,  not  only  in  its  departure  from  its  calm  and 
simple  spiritual  types,  but  in  the  introduction  of  every 
artifice ,  even  of  upholstery,  gewgaws,  and  mock 
splendor,  which  could  corrupt  the  taste  and  enslave  the 
mind ;  and  this,  too,  under  the  pretence  that  it  was 
devoting  the  riches  of  the  world  to  the  service  of 
heaven.  The  Roman  priesthood,  in  the  outset,  had 
simple  minds  and  tender  consciences  in  their  charge. 
There  never  was  a  more  favorable  opportunity  for  ele¬ 
vating  the  minds  of  men  by  the  development  of  their 
souls.  Of  the  sensualities  of  paganism  the  world  had 
had  enough.  The  Gospel  gained  ground  daily,  while  its 
apostles  spoke  of  spiritual  truths,  for  they  supplied  the 
innate  craving  of  all  men  for  loftier  motives  of 
existence  than  the  mere  harmonies  of  sense.  But 
priestcraft  saw  its  worldly  advantage,  and  under  the 
specious  pretence  that  their  flocks  would  not  appreciate 
the  spirit  of  Christianity,  shut  out  from  their  view  “  the 
Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life,”  assuming  to  them¬ 
selves  the  power  to  open  heaven  by  virtue  of  mum¬ 
meries  that  have  reduced  religion  throughout  the 
Roman  Catholic  and  Greek  world,  where  it  rules  su¬ 
preme,  to  an  organized  system  of  deceit  and  stage- 
effect.  There  are  many  believers  in  this  monstrous 
sham  —  men  whose  faith  and  hopes  no  falsity  can 
blight — but  with  the  mass  it  is  form  without  soul, 
appealing  to  their  fears  and  sympathies  for  motives  of 
rectitude,  and  making  their  hopes  of  heaven  dependent 


192 


ART-HINTS.  ■ 


upon  their  abasement  of  mind  and  implicit  obedience 
to  a  hierarchy,  which  flourishes  only  as  liberty  and 
progress  are  trampled  under  foot. 

The  labors  of  Byzantine  Art,  beside  mosaic  painting, 
were  confined  mainly  to  the  adornment  of  shrines, 
reliquaries,  crucifixes,  church-plate  and  vestments,  and 
the  gear  of  royalty,  both  powers  being  now  firmly 
leagued  in  their  common  objects  of  enslavement  of  the 
human  race.  In  such  hands  there  need  be  no  surprise 
at  the  rapid  decadence  of  taste.  Richness  of  material 
became  of  more  consequence  than  beauty  of  workman¬ 
ship.  Gold,  and  silver,  and  porphyry,  and  precious 
stones,  took  the  place  of  pure  marble  for  statuary. 
Above  all,  the  jeweller’s  art  was  most  esteemed,  and 
his  skill  was  more  shown  in  a  barbarous  medley  of 
jewels  and  costly  material  than  in  fine  workmanship. 
Even  the  numerous  relics  of  early  Grecian  and  Roman 
Art,  which  the  Eastern  emperors  had  collected  at 
Constantinople,  did  not  escape  the  effects  of  this  cor¬ 
ruption.  The  majesty  and  the  beauty  of  the  Jupiter 
Olympus  of  Phidias,  and  other  precious  works,  were 
lost  amid  a  mass  of  vulgar  though  costly  ornament, 
which,  no  doubt,  contributed  to  their  final  destruction, 
at  the  sack  of  the  city  in  1 204  by  the  Crusaders. 

Two  more  powerful  artistic  contrasts  history  never 
presented  than  the  Greeks  of  the  ancient  republics  and 
their  descendants  of  the  Eastern  empire.  Neither 
Christianity  nor  Art  could  withstand  the  corrupting 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  193 

effects  of  a  government  so  false  to  human  truth  and 
enterprise.  Both  sank  lower  and  lower,  until  their 
common  enemy  overwhelmed  them  in  richly-deserved 
ruin  ;  sweeping,  as  it  were,  all  traces  of  their  existence 
from  a  soil  they  had  long  ceased  to  fertilize. 


K 


194 


ART-HINTS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  MEDIAEVAL  SCHOOLS — RELIGIOUS  ART. 

Two  centuries  previous  to  the  capture  of  Constanti¬ 
nople  by  Mahomet  II.,  in  1453,  Art  had  made  quite 
an  advance  in  Italy.  Under  the  united  stimulus  of 
civic  freedom  and  religious  enthusiasm,  it  rapidly 
passed  from  the  degenerated  types  of  the  Byzantine 
school  into  free  and  more  perfect  expression.  Siena 
and  Florence  took  the  initiative  in  this  revival.  Clas¬ 
sical  forms  and  knowledge  were  either  buried  in  the 
earth,  awaiting  their  later  resurrection,  or  had  passed 
entirely  from  the  memory  of  man.  This  was  a  fortu¬ 
nate  circumstance  ;  otherwise,  those  noble  minds  to 
which  the  world  is  so  much  indebted,  might  have  done 
as  did  others  centuries  after  them ;  they  might  have 
wasted  their  genius  in  the  feebleness  of  copy,  and  the 
futileness  of  effort  to  revive  that  which,  having  lost  its 
soul,  can  never  again  be  a  thing  of  life. 

The  mediasval-Italian  mind  in  its  first  Art-efforts 
was  wholly  guided  by  religion  ;  it  became,  in  fact,  a  con- 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  195 

fession  of  faith.  We  read  in  its  Art  the  simplicity,  sin¬ 
cerity,  truth,  and  earnestness  of  devout  souls.  To  them, 
those  quaint  figures  with  their  solemn  expression,  with 
all  their  faults  of  perspective  and  imperfect  anatomy, 
clad  in  garments  of  exceeding  richness  of  color,  yet  of 
simple  fashion,  reposing  stiffly  in  their  atmosphere  of 
gold,  were  as  angel  voices  of  hope  and  warning.  Guido 
of  Siena,  Simon  Memmi,  Cimabue,  Giotto,  and  Or¬ 
cagna,  were  not  artists  only,  but  prophets,  who  foretold 
the  joy  of  heaven  and  woe  of  hell.  Each  was  a  Dante 
in  painting  ;  such  as  they  believed  they  expressed  in  a 
manner  so  serious,  that  no  modern  eye,  not  dimmed  by 
unbelief  in  all  spirituality,  can  look  emotionless  upon 
their  revelations  of  the  bright  robes  and  hallelujahs  of 
the  faithful,  and  the  terrible  torments  of  the  damned ; 
they  carried  their  hearts  into  their  Art.  For  three 
centuries  artists  labored  in  this  spirit,  and  mankind 
rejoiced  in  their  work.  The  early  German  school  was 
equally  serious  and  sincere ;  harder  in  outline,  with 
like  simplicity,  but  more  variety  and  richness  in  detail, 
and  greater  vigor  of  touch.  Albert  Durer  was  its 
greatest  seer.  Both  Italians  and  Germans  studied 
and  prayed  to  know  how  they  might  best  give  glimpses 
of  the  spiritual  world.  It  was  reserved  for  Fra  An¬ 
gelico,  of  Fiesole,  to  invest  Art  with  its  perfect  robe  of 
spirituality,  elevating  it  at  once  into  the  peace,  purity, 
and  glory  of  the  celestial  Paradise. 

Between  the  new  schools  of  Italy  and  Byzantine  Art 


19G 


ART-HINTS. 


there  was  this  great  distinction :  the  latter  simply 
copied  old  types ;  the  former,  even  in  employing  them, 
gave  to  them  a  new  arrangement,  and  not  content  with 
reviving  life  in  their  dry  bones,  the  artist  gave  play  to 
his  own  ideas.  Innocent  III.  was  the  presiding  genius 
of  the  papal  see  in  the  thirteenth  century.  It  was  an 
epoch  of  great  talents  and  triumphant  progress  for  the 
Church,  which  attained  a  power  and  splendor  before, 
unknown.  The  feeling  of  this  century  was  eminently 
religious,  and  directed  by  the  Roman  Church.  St. 
Francis  of  Assisi  awakened  an  ecstatic  enthusiasm  and 
glowing  devotion  to  its  tenets  that  even  now  seem  to 
linger  amid  the  scenes  of  his  saintly  career.  Art  par¬ 
took  both  of  the  mental  impetus  and  its  mystical  direc¬ 
tion.  The  Byzantine  style  did  not,  however,  yield  its 
supremacy  without  a  struggle,  involving  a  transition 
period,  as  is  discernible  in  the  mosaics  of  St.  Miniato 
al  Monte,  near  Florence,  which,  although  of  this 
period,  are  almost  wholly  of  that  school,  while  those  of 
the  cathedrals  at  Pisa,  and  the  former  city,  manifest 
the  freer  conceptions  and  more  dignified  expressions  of 
the  dawning  art.  Duccio,  in  his  large  picture  of  the 
entrance  of  Christ  into  Jerusalem,  done  between  1308 
aud  1811,  for  the  cathedral  of  Siena,  strikingly  dis¬ 
plays  the  departure  from  the  previous  incapacity,  by 
his  skill  in  grouping,  the  fine  expression  of  his  heads, 
and  the  dramatic  action  of  his  figures,  imbued  with 
religious  feeling,  and  in  beeping  with  his  subject. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  197 

Like  Ciraabue’s,  his  picture,  for  which  he  was  paid 
three  thousand  gold  florins — a  large  sum  considering 
the  time — was  carried  through  the  city  in  triumphal 
procession,  his  fellow-citizens  considering  the  successful 
artist  as  worthy  of  their  highest  honors. 

The  advance  from  the  meagre  forms  and  vacant 
countenances  of  Byzantine  Art,  through  all  its  inter¬ 
mediate  steps,  until  symbolism — as  that  branch  of 
painting  which  is  guided  wholly  by  an  ecstatic  imagi¬ 
nation,  may  be  termed — found  its  purest  expression 
in  the  labors  of  a  Dominican  monk,  was  as  from  entire 
darkness  to  perfect  day.  Fra  Angelico  was  one  of 
those  rare  beings  born  a  saint.  His  devotion  took  the 
form  of  surrounding  influences,  but  the  motives  which 
inspired  his  labors  were  exclusively  the  offspring  of 
his  own  spiritual  nature.  He  is  the  highest  though 
not  the  most  forcible  type  of  the  religious  mysticism 
which  pervaded  Art  during  its  early  revival.  His 
imagination  was  less  remarkable  for  power  than  for 
purity;  there  is  a  celestial  glow  in  all  his  beatified 
faces  that  seems  to  radiate  from  his  own  soul  ;  indeed, 
he  never  commenced  work  without  first  imploring  the 
blessing  of  heaven.  Every  time  that  he  painted  Christ 
upon  the  cross,  the  tears  would  roll  down  his  cheeks  as 
if  he  were  an  actual  eye-witness  of  his  Saviour’s  agony 
With  such  feeling,  how  could  he  be  otherwise  than 
ecstatic  in  his  work  ? 

To  repeat  all  the  names  that  distinguished  them- 


198 


ART-HINTS. 


selves  in  this  species  of  Art  would  be  to  fill  a  volume. 
Their  works  and  influence  are  traceable  throughout 
Europe,  even  to  the  present  day,  when  a  new  school, 
the  pre-Raphael ite,  has  arisen,  guided  by  the  same 
principles.  Its  object  is  purity  of  expression  united  to 
truth  of  outline.  As  an  influence  needed  to  recall 
modern  Art  to  the  necessity  of  seeking  its  highest 
inspiration  in  Divine  truth,  it  promises  well ;  but  so 
far  as  I  have  seen  the  works  of  Overbeck  and  other 
able  professors,  they  indicate  a  disposition  to  copy  the 
old  religious  masters,  rather  than  to  study  as  they  did  ; 
consequently,  what  was  strength  in  the  one,  becomes 
feebleness  in  the  other.  The  medievalists  used  such 
science  as  they  possessed  to  perfect  their  works :  they 
constantly  made  progress ;  and  while  they  continued 
in  their  sincerity,  they  exerted  an  influence  over  the 
popular  mind  such  as  the  world  has  since  not  seen. 
But  the  modern  artists  of  this  school  are  imitators 
rather  than  creators.  In  their  zeal  for  their  prototypes 
they  not  only  seek  to  revive  their  motives,  but  they 
perpetuate  their  errors ;  consequently  we  find  faults  of 
design,  hardness  of  outline,  weakness  of  tint,  inharmo¬ 
nious  combinations  of  color,  beside  the  general  mysti¬ 
cism  or  its  opposite  overtelling  of  the  story,  which  was 
not  uncommon  among  them,  while  as  yet  their  higher 
qualities  have  not  been  attained.  They  give  us  the 
faults  and  not  the  spirit  of  the  age ;  even  if  they  could 
render  the  latter  it  would  not  be  desirable,  neither 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  199 

would  it  be  generally  received,  because  our  age  claims 
more  of  Art  on  account  of  its  greater  knowledge  and 
opportunities.  While  appreciating  the  power  of  the 
feeling  of  the  medievalists,  it  requires  also  its  harmo¬ 
nious  combinations  with  form  and  color  under  all  the 
advantages  of  modern  science.  It  does  not  believe 
that  progress  in  Art  in  any  of  its  branches  is  to  be  cast 
aside,  but  rather  that  it  must  be  stimulated  to  action 
until  it  develops  a  perfect  whole.  Religious  truths 
can  be  better  expressed  in  correct  forms  and  beautiful 
color  than  in  any  other  way.  Nature  gives  us  her 
highest  truths  under  the  most  captivating  appearances. 
We  may,  from  the  lower  level  of  debased  humanity, 
distort  or  pervert  them  to  falsehood  or  sensuality ; 
but,  as  a  universal  rule  of  God,  his  spirit  is  mani¬ 
fested  to  us  only  through  form,  color,  or  action, 
in  the  garb  of  beauty.  The  pre-Raphaelites  mis¬ 
take  also  their  relation  to  the  age  in  seeking  to  carry 
back  its  intellect  to  a  time  when  mere  symbolism  or 
pictorial  writing  best  embodied  its  instruction.  We 
are  now  beyond  that,  books  being  the  best  agents  for 
the  conveyance  of  abstract  ideas  ;  consequently,  artists 
who,  like  Hunt,  represent  the  Saviour  as  the  Light  of 
the  World  by  a  lantern  in  his  hand,  only  make  the 
idea  contemptible  and  themselves  ridiculous. 

The  leading  souls  of  the  ecstatic  style  of  painting — 
I  say  souls,  because  the  spiritual  faculties  entered  the 
most  fully  into  their  compositions — were,  besides  Fra 


200 


ABT-H1NTS. 


Angelico,  Luini  of  Milan,  Francia  of  Bologna,  Gentile 
and  John  Bellini  of  Venice,  Fra  Bartolomeo,  a  monk 
of  Florence,  Perugino  of  Perugia,  and  finally,  Raphael 
of  Urbino,  who  so  excelled  them  all  in  grace  of  outline, 
completeness  of  detail,  and  harmony  of  color,  that  his 
name  has  been  ever  since  a  byword  for  excellence 
in  high  Art:  perhaps  Leonardo  should  be  included  in 
this  list,  though  intellect  more  than  soul  characterizes 
all  his  works.  The  same  devout  spirit  which  led 
Perugino  to  inscribe  upon  his  portrait,  now  in  the 
Ufizzi  gallery  at  Florence,  “  iimete  Deum,”  fear  God, 
was  their  daily  sustenance.  Through  their  works  they 
sought  to  declaim  His  glory.  As  Raphael  was  the 
climax  of  this  school,  so  was  he  the  connecting  link 
which  united  it  with  more  profane  Art.  The  latter 
portion  of  his  life  was  given  to  the  study  of  classical 
subjects,  and  to  mechanical  perfection,  by  which,  in 
religious  pictures,  while  he  gained  in  naturalness  of 
manner,  he  lost  somew'hat  that  heaven-toned  expression 
which,  as  in  his  St.  Cecilia  at  Bologna,  distinguishes 
his  earlier  works. 

While  the  lofty  thoughts  of  the  religious  artists 
required  for  full  appreciation  similar  purity  and  eleva¬ 
tion  of  mind,  their  faults  of  mechanical  execution, 
unfortunately,  were  apparent  to  the  commonest  under¬ 
standing,  though  even  these  were  often  forgotten  in 
contemplation  of  the  exceeding  loveliness  of  their 
works.  The  later  artists,  like  Raphael  and  Fra  Bar- 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  201 

tolomeo,  had  so  united  the  two  degrees  of  excellence 
as  almost  to  disarm  criticism  ;  at  all  events,  sufficiently 
to  captivate  the  senses  as  well  as  the  spirit.  Yet  the 
tendency  of  the  religious  mind  to  cling  to  one  extreme 
produced  a  reaction  in  another  class,  and  led  the  way 
for  a  system,  which,  taking  nature  for  its  guide,  was 
called  Naturalism.  It  gave  the  preference  to  the 
truths  of  physical  beauty  and  action,  seeking,  however, 
intellectual  motives,  but  rarely  venturing  upon  the 
domain  of  the  pure  spiritualists. 

The  proper  union  of  the  two  can  alone  constitute 
excellence ;  for  it  isfnecessary  for  high  Art  not  only  to 
have  great  thoughts,  but  to  be  able  to  express  them 
intelligibly  and  agreeably.  This  can  be  done  only  by 
careful  attention  to  form  and  color  in  their  natural 
combinations.  The  superhuman  element  can,  in  its 
best  estate,  be  but  partially  successful ;  but  when  the 
artist  adheres  to  nature,  impregnating  it  with  thought 
and  spirit  as  the  Creator  works  to  our  vision,  we  feel 
sure  that  so  far  as  he  goes  he  is  right.  Every  stone 
and  leaf  become  then  an  object  of  careful  study ;  a 
complete  natural  unity  being  the  aim. 

No  picture  more  wonderfully  comprises  the  general 
truths  of  Art  in  an  effective  unity  than  the  ‘  Last 
Supper,’  by  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  at  Milan.  It  is  true 
that  the  spectator  is  obliged  to  make  up  an  ideal  whole 
from  the  few  scattered  bits  of  the  artist’s  genius  still 
left  untouched  by  time  or  the  restorer.  The  mystery 

Tv* 


202 


ART-HINTS. 


of  partial  destruction,  by  softening  and  confusing  the 
lines,  may  exalt  and  refine  the  picture  to  a  certain 
degree.  But  the  composition  is  perfect ;  detached 
portions  of  the  original  colors  can  be  seen ;  expression 
and  outline  are  distinct ;  restoration  has  indeed  marred 
some  features,  but  the  treacherous  avarice  of  Judas, 
the  tenderness  of  John,  and  that  wondrous  head  of  the 
Saviour,  with  its  more  than  mortal  grace  and  serene 
divinity,  a  head  which  combines  both  human  and  celes¬ 
tial  beauty  in  one  ineffable  look  of  consciousness  of 
coming  betrayal  and  yet  forgiving  love,  remains  to 
haunt  the  soul  as  the  noblest  work  of  Art. 

Naturalism  then  was  the  reaction  of  mysticism.  It 
had  its  origin  in  the  want  created  in  the  public  mind 
by  the  incompleteness  of  the  latter  school.  While 
figures  were  purely  symbolical,  accuracy  of  outline  and 
harmony  of  color  were  overlooked,  so  that  the  religious 
idea  shone  prominent.  Cimabue  and  his  contemporary 
artists  were  the  first  to  throw  off  the  stupefaction  of 
the  Greek  school,  but  its  influence  is  perceptible  in  all 
their  works.  Before  him  Guido  of  Siena,  and  Giunto 
of  Pisa,  as  early  as  the  year  1200,  had  ventured  to 
vary  its  types,  and  suggest  progress  to  painting.  It 
was  reserved,  however,  for  Giotto,  who  was  born  in 
1276,  to  found  a  new  era  in  Art. 

Cimabue  found  him,  one  day,  a  youthful  shepherd- 
boy,  sketching  a  sheep  with  a  sharp  stone  upon  the 
ground.  Its  spirit  attracted  him,  and  he  took  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  203 

child  to  his  studio,  and  instructed  him  in  the  rudi¬ 
ments  of  painting.  The  genius  of  Giotto  rapidly 
developed,  and  he  soon  arose  to  be  not  only  the  founder 
of  a  school  in  painting,  but  he  gave  a  new  impetus  to 
sculpture,  architecture,  and  engineering.  His  monu¬ 
ment  is  the  Campanile  of  Florence,  that  glorious  tower 
which  Charles  V.  said  should  be  kept  under  a  glass- 
case  and  exhibited  only  on  holidays. 

Giotto  is  more  generally  known  through  his  pictures, 
which  are  now  wonderful  only  as  they  mark  the  entire 
enfranchisment  of  the  Art  from  Byzantine  degradation. 
Not  only  did  he  give  animation  to  his  compositions  and 
more  grace  to  his  figures,  elevating  their  expression 
while  making  them  more  natural,  but  he  studied  the 
effects  of  draperies,  revived  the  forgotten  art  of  por¬ 
traiture,  as  we  see  in  his  lately-discovered  and  noble 
head  of  Dante,1  and  improved  coloring.  In  fine,  he 
made  so  great  progress  as  to  be  considered  a  miracle 
in  painting,  and  universally  known  as  the  author  of  a 
new  method. 

Giotto’s  mind  was  of  a  liberal,  generous  type,  and  he 
altogether  a  pleasant  and  joyous  personage.  He  rose 
above  the  cramping  influences  of  the  merely  super¬ 
stitious  fervor  of  his  time,  and  consequently,  being  in 
advance  of  his  age,  influenced  his  successors  in  Art  for 
more  than  a  century.  Dante  was,  however,  the  pre- 

1  By  repainting,  the  original  outline  is  lost,  so  that  it  is  not  -worth 
the  trouble  to  seek  for  it  in  the  prison  at  Florence. 


204 


ART-HINTS. 


siding  genius  of  this  epoch,  spreading  his  thought  over 
the  intermediate  generations,  until  he  found  in  Michael 
Angelo  his  most  powerful  expositor.  According  to 
tradition  the  spirit  of  Dante  visited  Giotto,  who  was 
his  intimate  friend,  in  dreams,  and  aided  him  in  his 
allegorical  designs  of  the  famous  frescoes  of  ‘  Poverty,’ 
‘  Obedience,’  and  ‘  Chastity,’  which  he  painted  in  the 
church  of  St.  Francesco,  at  Assisi.  Orcagna  also 
borrowed  largely  in  thought  from  Dante  in  his  great 
composition  of  the  ‘Last  Judgment,’  in  the  Campo 
Santo,  at  Pisa.  He  better  understood  his  subject  than 
Michael  Angelo,  as  can  be  seen  in  his  more  dignified 
treatment  of  it  as  a  whole. 

Nicolo  Pisano  (1231),  of  Pisa,  was  perhaps  the 
artist  who  first  gave  form  and  direction  to  the  school 
which  afterwards  produced  Giotto,  Orcagna,  Ghiberti, 
and  other  eminent  men,  each  of  whom  receiving  into 
himself  the  progress  of  his  predecessors,  was  inspired 
thereby  to  greater  exertion  and  more  complete  expres¬ 
sion.  The  modern  study  of  the  antique,  though  from 
few  and  imperfect  materials,  dates  from  Pisano.  It 
influenced  his  draperies  and  figures.  We  find  in 
purity  of  outline  a  resemblance  between  some  of  the 
heads  of  Giotto  and  the  best  Greek  sculptures.  All 
this  indicates  the  right  direction  which  these  minds 
gave  to  their  genius.  It  was  one  not  of  mere  imitation, 
but  of  progress,  seeking  truth  in  studies  either  from 
nature,  the  antique,  or  their  own  ideal. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  205 

The  labor  bestowed  by  the  medievalists  on  the 
development  of  their  art  is  forcibly  illustrated  by 
Paolo  Ucello,  who  was  so  zealous  in  his  study  of  per¬ 
spective  as  to  shut  himself  up  through  long  winter 
nights  in  his  fireless  studio,  despising,  in  his  passion 
for  this  branch  of  his  art,  cold,  hunger,  and  poverty, 
replying  to  the  remonstrances  of  his  wife,  “  Anima 
mea,  my  love !  if  you  could  only  understand  the  de¬ 
lights  of  perspective  !”  He  was  a  poor  artist  because  he 
neglected  everything  else ;  but  his  sincerity,  and  indeed 
that  of  all  the  great  masters  of  this  epoch,  stands  in 
striking  contrast  with  the  greedy  haste  and  careless¬ 
ness  of  later  artists,  the  effects  of  which  were  percep¬ 
tible  both  on  their  works  and  in  their  characters. 
“We  paint  six  pictures  in  a  year,”  says  Vasari,  a 
century  later,  “  while  the  earlier  masters  took  six 
years  to  one  picture.”  With  such  faultiness  of  execu¬ 
tion  there  existed  moral  laxity,  showing  that  works 
done  in  a  vainglorious  spirit  were  fed  from  impure 
mental  sources.  Painters  had  become  courtiers,  in¬ 
triguants,  and  even  assassins.  Guido  and  Domeni- 
chino  were  driven  from  Naples  by  the  brutal  violence 
of  rivals ;  the  latter  was  poisoned,  and  later,  in  Rome, 
Barrocio  met  with  similar  treachery  from  like  jealousy. 

Other  Italian  cities  preceded  Florence  somewhat 
in  the  artistic  movement  of  the  thirteenth  century. 
There  were  many  artists  of  repute  all  over  Italy  at 
this  time,  as  is  evident  from  its  ecclesiastical  architec- 


206 


ART-HINTS. 


ture,  which  embodied  a  profusion  of  sculpture  and 
painting.  Indeed,  there  was  a  general  awakening  of 
mind  from  its  long  paralysis.  Florence,  howevei,  boic 
away  the  palm  of  progress,  and  contributed  more  than 
any  other  city  to  the  spread  of  Art,  mainly  from  the 
impetus  given  it  by  Giotto. 

Artists  multiplied  with  unprecedented  rapidity.  The 
public  taste  demanded  their  labors  in  every  depart¬ 
ment  in  which  painting  or  sculpture  could  be  intro¬ 
duced.  The  first  great  thought  of  the  aroused  intellect 
was,  as  we  have  seen,  eminently  religious.  Originat¬ 
ing  in  Italy,  it  spread  over  Europe,  and  gave  the 
world  all  those  noble  varieties  of  Christian  architecture 
which  are  classed  under  the  general  term  Gothic. 
Other  forms  have  been  tried  in  various  ages,  but  they 
all  fail  in  comparison  with  this  style  as  an  expression 
of  the  feeling  and  thought  of  spiritual  devotion.  There 
is  reason  for  this.  The  earliest  forms  of  sacred  edifices 
were  but  a  modification  of  pagan  basilicas.  In  the 
Renaissance  we  see  a  partial  revival  of  heathen  temples, 
without  their  simplicity  and  beauty  of  proportions ; 
instead,  a  profusion  of  meretricious  ornament,  borrowed 
from  classical  sensualism  and  modern  luxury,  in  odd 
companionship,  upon  a  Christian  church. 

The  spirit  of  these  two  styles  must  necessarily  be 
tainted  by  their  sources,  though  the  former  was  so 
thoroughly  purged  from  all  previous  associations,  as  to 
be  in  every  respect  superior  to  the  latter.  IMediceval 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  207 

church  architecture  relied  solely  upon  Christianity  for 
its  spirit.  It  had  no  other  resource,  because  classical 
knowledge  was  forgotten,  and  nothing  left  but  the  Bible 
as  the  universal  hook.  This  is  sufficient  of  itself  to 
account  for  the  religious  feeling  of  this  age.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  that  if  the  mediaeval  generations  had 
possessed  the  same  familiarity  with  the  literature  of 
Greece  and  Rome,  which  was  the  result  of  a  later 
diffusion  of  knowledge,  they  would  have  exhibited  the 
same  love  of  variety  and  fondness  for  classical  prece¬ 
dents  which  characterized  their  descendants.  Human 
nature  in  its  elements  is  ever  the  same.  Its  proneness 
to  extremes,  though  stimulating  to  thought  and  enter¬ 
prise,  is  dangerous  to  its  moral  repose.  We  shall 
perceive,  as  we  prosecute  our  inquiry  into  the  spirit  of 
the  several  ages  as  manifested  in  Art,  that  their  essen¬ 
tial  differences  take  their  origin  largely  in  the  reaction 
consequent  upon  all  extremes.  The  only  true  basis 
for  human  progress  lies  in  the  equal  cultivation  or 
balance  of  all  its  faculties. 

The  medirevalists,  therefore,  were  religious  from 
necessity.  Their  encyclopedia  of  knowledge  lay  in 
the  Bible.  Intellect  was  compelled  to  slake  its  first 
thirst  in  Scripture.  Its  vigor  was  that  of  a  man 
aroused  from  a  long  sleep.  The  puerility  and  imbe¬ 
cility  of  Byzantine  Art  were  thrown  aside  at  once  and 
for  ever.  Bibles  were  multiplied  everywhere  in  manu¬ 
script — a  slow  process,  but  one  which  indelibly  fixed 


208 


ART -HINTS. 


attention  upon  the  narrative.  We  have  noticed  the 
effect  of  this  inevitable  study  upon  the  schools  it 
created  of  architecture,  sculpture,  and  painting.  In 
domestic  life  its  results  were  no  less  striking.  Having 
no  heathen  mythology  to  go  to  for  decorative  forms, 
or  Ovids,  Homers,  or  Virgils  for  classical  subjects 
for  the  ornamentation  of  their  dwellings,  they  borrowed 
their  stories  from  the  lives  of  Christ  and  his  Apostles, 
or  the  histories  of  the  Old  Testament.  Walls  and 
tapestries  related,  not  as  in  modern  times,  the  amours 
of  Venus,  the  wars  of  Mars,  the  thefts  of  Mercury,  or 
the  rapes  of  Jupiter ;  they  were  not  peopled  with 
Satyrs,  Pans,  Cupids,  or  Titans  ;  they  displayed  no 
assemblages  of  gods  and  goddesses  in  angry  disputa¬ 
tion  or  carnal  feasting ;  none  of  these  things  looked 
down  upon  them  by  day  and  by  night.  These  subjects 
were  reserved  for  the  fashion  of  more  enlightened 
times.  But  they  did  see  at  all  hours,  amid  their 
rejoicings  or  as  they  slept,  holy  personages,  saints  and 
virgins,  apostles  and  evangelists,  martyrs  and  the  sym¬ 
bolized  faith  for  which  they  died ;  virtues  and  not 
graces,  angels  and  notnnuses,  types  of  spiritual  truths 
and  not  expressions  of  sensuous  beauty  or  lustful  pas¬ 
sion  ;  these  were  their  daily  intellectual  food.  Amid 
all  things,  in  church,  shop,  or  bedroom,  on  the  road¬ 
side  and  by  the  palace,  at  every  street-corner  and  over 
every  threshold,  were  the  figures  of  their  Redeemer 
and  his  holy  mother  to  direct  their  thoughts  still  higher 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  Ai\TD  PAINTING.  209 

heavenwards.  Religion,  at  all  events  in  its  external 
forms  and  as  believed ,  was  confessed  by  all  men  and 
in  all  places.  Youth  were  taught  to  rely  on  spiritual 
powers  for  their  earthly  support  and  soul  sustenance. 
Charity,  faith,  the  due  subjection  of  the  body  to  the 
development  of  its  perfect  strength,  humanity,  the 
succour  of  the  oppressed,  the  relief  of  the  unfortunate  ; 
Devoir,  duty  to  all  men — such  were  the  doctrines  of 
chivalry  in  the  Middle  Ages. 

Classicalism  believed  in  its  mythology ;  therefore, 
its  works  were  sincere.  Medievalism  believed  in  its 
symbolical  Christianity ;  therefore,  it  wrought  likewise 
in  sincerity.  The  Renaissance,  as  we  shall  see,  be¬ 
lieved  in  neither ;  therefore,  it  had  no  religious 
character. 

Modernism  is  but  awakening  from  its  dream  of 
sense  to  inquire  how  it  can  worship  in  “spirit  and 
truth.”  In  the  degree  that  it  develops  these 
elements  of  inner  life,  it  will  take  precedence  of  all 
preceding  ages  in  intellectual  dignity  and  spiritual 
greatness. 


210 


ART-HINTS. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

SCHOOLS  OF  ART — SYMBOLISM  AND  NATURALISM. 

Although  the  character  of  the  revived  Art  was  so 
thoroughly  religious,  the  public  taste  demanded  that 
ornament,  chiefly  of  the  same  element,  should  enter 
into  every  domestic  object  to  a  degree  that  almost 
obscured  its  use.  Instead  of  being  confined  to  public 
edifices  and  the  wealthy  classes,  it  penetrated  the  most 
humble  households,  and  was  employed  on  the  most 
common  materials.  Not  only  was  furniture  most 
elaborately  carved  and  richly  painted  or  gilded,  but 
ordinary  domestic  utensils  were  wrought  with  an  atten¬ 
tion  to  ornament  which  reminds  one  of  the  fanciful 
designs  and  graceful  patterns  found  in  similar  objects 
at  Pompeii  and  Herculaneum.  Paintings  formed  a 
portion  of  marriage  dowries.  The  bride’s  effects  were 
given  in  chests  decorated  to  the  utmost  capacity  of  the 
then  known  art.  Even  saddles,  the  trappings  of 
horses  and  armor,  were  all  richly  ornamented. 

Associated  with  artists  were  those  trades  in  which 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  211 

ornament  was  conspicuously  intermixed.  In  fact, 
workers  in  metal,  carvers,  gilders,  saddlers,  and  other 
mechanics,  were  considered  as  on  a  level  with  artists. 
This  did  not  so  much  elevate  manufacture  as  it  tended 
to  degrade  Art. 

There  existed,  however,  a  reason  for  this  association 
in  the  congeniality  of  labors.  Painting  was  still 
secondary,  not  having  so  speedily  and  wholly  eman¬ 
cipated  itself  from  traditionary  types  as  sculpture  and 
architecture.  Besides,  the  artist  was  necessary  to 
design.  Even  Leonardo  da  Vinci  condescended  to 
paint  a  buckler.  Some  of  the  greatest  names  in  Art 
were  those  that  arose  from  the  condition  of  artisans ; 
their  genius  being  developed  by  the  demand  for  beauty 
and  skill  in  ornamentation. 

This  exigence  of  the  public  was  beneficial  to  the 
workman.  It  prevented  him,  as  in  modern  manufac¬ 
ture,  from  degenerating  into  a  mere  machine.  Both 
thought  and  imagination  were  kept  alive  in  the  crea¬ 
tion  of  new  forms  to  keep  pace  with  the  public  taste. 
He  was  interested  in  his  work  as  an  evidence  of  his 
own  talent,  and  not  the  nice  adjustment  of  a  steam- 
engine  or  the  servile  copying  of  a  set  pattern.  Head 
and  hands  were  equally  employed ;  consequently,  not 
only  was  mediaeval  labor  more  healthful  than  modern, 
but  it  avoided  all  sameness  and  mechanical  precision. 
It  is  true  that  machinery  is  a  better  workman  for  all 
purposes  connected  with  mere  utility.  But  when  it 


212 


ART-HINTS. 


approaches  the  domain  of  beauty  or  suggestiveness,  its 
clumsiness  becomes  painfully  apparent. 

Machinery  is  an  advantage  to  the  artisan  only  in 
the  degree  that  it  saves  him  time  for  the  enjoyment 
and  cultivation  of  his  intellectual  faculties.  The  me¬ 
dievalist  found  scope  for  both  in  his  work.  Modern 
civilization  is  treading  a  dangerous  path  in  converting 
the  working  classes  into  mere  automatons  for  the  pro¬ 
duction  of  objects  into  which  no  thought  of  their  own 
can  by  any  possibility  enter.  Time  and  opportunity 
are  needed  for  mind  culture.  A  trade  is  wholesome 
in  proportion  that  it  interests  and  occupies  the  entire 
mental  and  physical  faculties  of  the  artisan.  Those 
trades  or  manufactures  that  deprive  him  of  all  will 
of  his  own,  degrade  him  to  a  bondage  infinitely  more 
hopeless  than  that  of  the  slave  who  toils  in  the  open 
air.  Statesmen  should  ponder  over  the  gathering 
results  of  merely  time-consuming,  soul-deadening 
labor.  To  it  may  be  traced  the  restlessness  and 
misery  of  so  many  of  the  working-classes  throughout 
those  nations  in  which  Science  is  paramount  to  Art. 
I  can  see  no  remedy  for  the  increasing  evil  other  than 
to  give  them  either  time  or  material  for  the  expansion 
of  their  intellects,  or  so  to  direct  their  industry  that  it 
shall  produce  a  similar  result.  The  latter  can  be 
done  only  through  the  improved  taste  of  the  cultivated 
classes,  in  exacting  of  labor  or  manufacture  evidences 
of  the  mental  freedom  of  the  workmen  in  the  produc- 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  213 

tion  of  his  hands,  and  resolutely  rejecting  all  those 
trickeries  with  which,  under  the  spurious  garb  of 
beauty,  modern  civilization  has  inundated  the  world. 

The  revival  of  Art  was  a  direct  benefit  to  every 
class.  Entering  as  it  did  into  all  domestic  objects,  it 
gave  employment  to  every  class  of  mind,  creating  in 
all  a  feeling  and  knowledge  for  Art  purer  and  more 
universal  than  the  world  ever  knew  before,  or  has 
known  since,  excepting  perhaps  the  best  days  of 
Greece.  Commerce  felt  its  influence,  and  by  it  civili¬ 
zation  spread.  Mind  was  stirred  to  activity  through¬ 
out  Europe.  Italy  preceded  all  other  countries  in 
this  intellectual  movement,  as  she  did  later  in  its  down¬ 
fall.  The  same  great  ideas  sprang  spontaneously  into 
existence  throughout  Christendom,  but  the  germ  of 
progress  came  from  Italy  in  the  course  of  the  thir¬ 
teenth,  fourteenth,  and  fifteenth  centuries. 

My  principal  object  is  to  trace  its  Art-manifesta¬ 
tions  as  exhibited  under  the  several  moral  and  intel¬ 
lectual  movements  of  various  schools.  We  have  seen 
the  birth  of  the  mystic  school  upon  the  debris  of  the 
Byzantine,  and  traced  the  causes  for  this  religious 
direction.  Naturalism,  it  has  been  shown,  was  the 
reactionary  force  of  the  mind,  seeking  at  first  to  fami¬ 
liarize  spiritual  ideas  under  more  correct  and  beautiful 
forms.  Its  real  purpose  was  to  give  artistic  as  well  as 
spiritual  truths.  The  first  necessity  for  its  introduc¬ 
tion  sprang  from  mental  repugnance  at  endless  repe- 


214 


ART-HINTS. 


titions  of  figures  more  or  less  symbolical,  and  often 
from  rudely-exhibited  physical  agony  or  overwrought 
I’epentance,  more  painful  to  the  sympathies  than  in¬ 
structive  to  the  soul. 

Satiety  in  this,  as  in  all  things,  led  to  disgust  and 
eventual  change.  Men  grew  tired  of  looking  upon 
arrow-struck  St.  Sebastians  and  broiling  St.  Law¬ 
rences,  especially  as  they  became  the  vapid  topics  of 
inferior  hands,  whose  souls  could  not  grasp  any  idea 
beyond  the  struggles  and  contortions  of  suffering 
flesh. 

Were  all  religious  artists,  Angelicos,  Bartolomeos, 
or  Raphaels,  the  world  would  have  gazed  unraptured 
to  this  day.  The  exceeding  loveliness  of  their  works, 
however,  only  the  more  painfully  contrasted  with  the 
productions  of  weaker  minds,  and  suggested  the  capa¬ 
city  of  Art  for  something  better.  Angelico  was  wholly 
immersed  in  spirit,  and  never  ventured  to  change  his 
first  thoughts,  believing  them  heaven-directed.  Raphael 
and  Bartolomeo,  on  the  contrary,  studied  to  improve ; 
to  fulfil,  if  possible,  the  highest  capacity  of  Art. 
Consequently,  they  looked  equally  to  Nature  for 
instruction. 

The  scope  of  the  religious  artists  was  necessarily 
confined  to  those  subjects  approved  by  the  Church, 
or  made  venerable  by  tradition.  Expression  was  to 
them  everything.  They  told  their  story  in  homely 
words,  but  they  were  words  of  sincerity  and  truth. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  215 

Their  earlier  efforts  were  so  restricted  to  figure  sub¬ 
jects,  that  the  want  of  the  variety  of  the  natural 
world  was  scarcely  felt.  When  they  departed  from 
the  human,  it  was  to  soar  to  the  superhuman.  Some 
were  purely  mystical.  Others,  like  Orcagna,  told  their 
stories  with  the  startling  fidelity  of  moral  purpose,  and 
terrible  energy  of  expression.  They  neither  tried  nor 
cared  to  imitate  nature,  except  as  secondary  to  their 
great  religious  motive. 

Now  the  aim  of  the  naturalists  was  simply  to  imitate 
Nature.  Those  great  minds,  who,  like  Donatello  and 
Brunelleschi,  were  the  first  to  appreciate  its  value, 
saw  also  of  what  importance  it  had  been  to  the  artists 
of  antiquity.  They  did  not,  however,  allow  the  enthu¬ 
siasm  of  a  first  love  to  compromise  their  own  indivi¬ 
duality.  This  school  took  a  broader  hold  upon  the 
human  mind.  Beauty,  indeed,  became  a  primary 
motive,  but  the  variety  of  Nature  was  ample  for  all 
tastes  in  the  selection  and  treatment  of  subjects,  with¬ 
out  necessarily  losing  originality  or  becoming  enslaved 
to  system. 

Masaccio  was  the  first  great  genius  in  the  new  style. 
He  studied  the  principles  by  which  it  could  be  brought 
to  resemble  Nature,  with  such  success,  that  according 
to  Vasari,  “  his  pictures  seem  to  live,  they  are  so  true 
and  natural.”  Perspective,  foreshortening,  anatomy, 
gradation  of  color,  in  fact,  all  the  mechanical  part  of 
Art  made  a  wonderful  advance  in  him,  while  he  was 


216 


ART-HINTS. 


no  less  successful  in  his  delineations  of  mind.  His 
most  celebrated  figure  in  the  Baptism  of  St.  Peter, 
in  the  church  of  the  Carmine  at  Florence,  shivering, 
as  it  were,  with  cold,  has  been  the  admiration  of  artists 
for  centuries.  Even  Raphael  studied  him  to  advan¬ 
tage.  He  died  in  1443,  at  an  early  age,  after  giving 
promise  of  talent  till  then  unsurpassed. 

Contemporary  with  Masaccio  was  Lorenzo  Ghiberti, 
who  had  just  finished  those  wonderful  gates  of  bronze 
to  the  Baptistery  of  the  Duomo,  at  Florence,  which, 
standing  prominent  in  that  branch  of  Art,  at  that  date 
might  have  constituted  an  epoch  in  painting,  if  its 
professors  had  had  sufficient  taste  to  appreciate  their 
merits.  In  them  may  he  seen  those  artistic  truths  of 
perspective,  purity  of  design,  and  elegance  of  com¬ 
position,  which  were  not  incorporated  into  Art  with 
equal  excellence  until  later.  The  variety  they  give  of 
Nature  is  equalled  by  the  accuracy  with  which  each 
object  is  finished.  Not  only  the  human  figure,  but 
architecture,  the  landscape,  every  bird,  leaf,  and  each 
pile  of  fruit,  have  the  freedom  and  grace  of  life. 

Those  who  would  examine  the  perfection  to  which 
the  imitation  of  natural  objects  in  stone  was  carried, 
should  look  at  the  carved  foliage  about  the  doorways 
of  the  cathedrals  at  Florence  and  Strasbourg,  which 
seems  as  if  it  could  shake  in  the  wind  and  gather  dew- 
drops  from  the  atmosphere. 

The  religious  artists  borrowed  but  slightly  from  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  217 

natural  school.  Even  their  landscapes  were  in  general 
purely  conventional.  Naturalism,  on  the  other  hand, 
often  went  into  the  domains  of  religion  for  sub¬ 
jects,  which  it  sought  to  invest  with  the  truth  and 
beauty  of  the  material  universe.  While  the  two 
schools  are  readily  distinguishable,  many  artists  united 
in  themselves  both  styles,  endeavouring  to  attain  an 
ideal  perfection  from  the  union  of  the  excellencies  of 
each. 

The  difficulties  attending  the  religious  treatment  of 
Art,  in  its  mystic  sense,  joined  to  its  leaning  towards 
superstition,  and  even  idolatry,  when  in  the  hands  of 
priestcraft,  have  led  to  its  almost  entire  abandonment. 
All  of  the  schools  that  have  come  into  existence  since 
the  fifteenth  century,  with  the  exception  of  the  limited 
efforts  of  the  pre-Raphaelites,  have  had  their  root 
either  in  naturalism  or  classicalism.  Those  artists 
who  have  ventured  upon  religious  grounds  have  been 
more  governed  by  their  Art  than  their  piety.  Not 
one  has  reached  that  vigor,  sincerity,  and  purity  of 
expression  of  the  old  masters,  which,  by  elevating  the 
thought  into  celestial  realms,  disarms  all  earthly  cri¬ 
ticism.  Indeed,  with  the  early  manner  of  Raphael 
the  school  may  be  said  to  have  become  extinct, 
although  occasionally  a  painter,  like  Andrea  del  Sarto, 
by  the  exquisite  grace  of  his  types,  serves  to  recall  the 
lost  ideal.  All  more  modern  attempts  that  I  have 
seen  have  been  utter  failures.  Even  in  technical 

L 


218 


ART-HINTS. 


treatment  the  want  of  success  is  painfully  apparent. 
Prayer  and  faith  made  Angelicos  heaven’s  artist. 
They  gave  divine  grandeur  to  Bartolomeo,  and  serene 
loveliness  to  Francia.  Bernardino  Luini’s  faces  inspire 
an  equal  elevation  of  sentiment ;  but  in  gazing  upon 
them  we  cease  to  be  astonished  when  we  know  that  he 
saw  £  The  Last  Supper  ’  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci  in  its 
perfection.  The  world  will  never  witness  a  revival  of 
their  inspired  Art  until  artists  believe  as  they  believed. 

If  mysticism  had  its  peculiar  dangers,  naturalism  is 
no  less  pregnant  with  temptations.  By  too  exclusive 
study  of  beauty  in  its  more  material  sense,  artists  for¬ 
get  the  elevating  influences  of  spirit,  and  apply  them¬ 
selves  to  the  finish  of  externals  to  the  neglect  of  the 
moral  and  physical  unity  of  nature.  Sensuous  beauty 
leads  them  captive.  Great  talents  may  indeed  rival 
nature  in  grace,  but  the  weaker  become  merely  man¬ 
nerists  or  copyists.  The  various  forms  naturalism  has 
assumed  from  its  revival  by  Ghiberti  and  Masaccio 
through  its  several  schools  until  our  day,  will  be  a  sub¬ 
ject  of  further  consideration. 

Two  discoveries,  or  more  properly  inventions,  which 
occurred  in  the  fifteenth  century,  contributed  greatly 
towards  the  spread  of  Art.  It  is  not  known  whether 
the  classical  artists  painted  in  oil,  although  from  what 
has  been  asserted  of  the  brightness  and  durability  of 
their  colors,  it  has  been  conjectured  that  such  was 
the  fact.  Oil-painting  was  practised  in  Giotto’s  time, 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  219 

as  we  see  by  an  allusion  of  Ghiberti  to  that  master : 
“  lavoro  in  olio.”  But  the  knowledge  did  not  spread 
until  1410,  or  thereabouts,  when  a  Flemish  artist, 
John  Van  Eyck,  of  Bruges,  either  invented  or  revived 
the  practice.  Previous  to  this  date  painting  had  been 
confined  to  the  mosaic,  encaustic,  or  fresco  methods. 
The  harmony  and  brilliancy  imparted  to  colors  by  this 
discovery  greatly  excited  the  Italian  artists.  One 
Antonelli  of  Sicily  went  to  Flanders  and  obtained 
from  Van  Eyck  his  secret.  From  him  it  was  imparted 
to  a  Florentine  named  Domenico,  who  employed  it 
with  so  much  success  as  to  excite  the  envy  of  other 
artists.  Among  them  was  his  friend,  Andrea  del 
Castagno,  to  whom  he  revealed  the  process.  Cas- 
tagno,  thinking  to  become  its  sole  possessor,  murdered 
Domenico,  hut  upon  his  deathbed  revealed  the  crime 
and  its  cause.  From  him  it  spread  rapidly  over  Italy, 
and  has  ever  since  been  the  chief  medium  of  the  art. 

Somewhere  about  the  year  1450  engraving  on  wood 
and  copper  came  into  vogue,  to  the  very  great  advan¬ 
tage  of  Art  in  multiplying  the  designs  of  the  great 
masters.  It  no  longer  became  indispensable  to  travel 
to  see  their  works.  Albert  Durer  especially  cultivated 
this  art,  and  his  example  has  since  been  followed  by 
many  distinguished  painters. 


220 


ART-HINTS. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

TIIE  STRUGGLE. 

In  the  freedom  which  immediately  succeeded  the  dawn 
of  Art  over  Europe  individual  mind  threw  off  its  old 
shackles,  and  boldly  launched  out  upon  an  unknown 
sea  of  inquiry.  For  three  centuries  a  contest  was 
waged  between  liberty  and  truth,  on  the  one  side 
inclining  to  republican  forms  and  progress,  and  on  the 
other  tyranny  and  falsehood  siding  with  sensuality  and 
superstition.  In  Italy  the  latter  triumphed  by  the 
help  of  external  force  and  the  seductive  power  of 
beauty  under  pagan  forms.  The  influences  which  led 
to  this  unfortunate  result  are  now  to  be  considered; 
for  it  is  important  to  establish  the  fact  that  during  this 
period  humanity  and  art,  science  and  literature,  were 
making  continual  progress,  developing  liberty  of  thought 
at  each  step  out  of  much  trial  and  many  reverses  until, 
from  causes  ah-eady  alluded  to,  southern  Europe  was 
blotted  out  of  the  map  of  even  partial  freedom. 

Mind  being  excited  to  its  utmost  action  had  not 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  221 

only  to  contend  with  external  tyranny  in  its  worst 
form,  but  its  own  still  more  dangerous  proclivities  to¬ 
wards  extremes.  Hence  we  find  the  history  of  this 
period  strongly  marked  by  contrasts  in  forms  of  govern¬ 
ment,  modes  of  thought,  and  all  those  moral  phenomena 
which  characterize  society  in  its  transition  state.  Yet 
amid  all  this  great  discoveries  were  made,  wealth  and 
power  created,  the  arts  encouraged,  science  improved, 
religion  was  tested,  and  truths  everywhere  made  pro¬ 
gress.  These  advances  were  the  result  of  that  mental 
freedom  which  admitted  all  men  to  the  proofs  of  their 
intellectual  nobility. 

In  Art,  as  in  society,  there  were  two  strongly-marked 
divisions  which  each  of  the  rival  political  parties  sought 
to  influence  to  the  promotion  of  their  own  interested 
aims.  Both  saw  in  Art  a  powerful  ally  ;  one  well 
calculated  to  sway  the  hearts  of  the  people.  But  the 
directions  which  each  sought  to  give  it  were  as  oppo¬ 
site  as  night  from  day.  These  political  parties,  are 
distinguishable  under  the  general  heads  of  republic¬ 
anism  and  despotism.  The  former  sought  to  maintain 
the  civil  freedom  of  cities  under  elective  magistrates  ; 
the  latter  to  concentrate  the  entire  power  into  the 
hands  of  individuals.  In  the  struggle  which  took 
place  at  Florence  we  have  a  fair  illustration  of  the 
general  spirit  of  Italy  at  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  and 
the  commencement  of  the  sixteenth  centuries. 

Among  those  active  minds,  which,  partaking  of  the 


222 


ART-HINTS. 


spirit  of  the  age,  acknowledged  no  authority  superior 
to  its  own  will,  was  Filippo  Lippi,  educated  a  monk, 
but  born  an  artist.  In  all  things  he  was  the  very 
reverse  of  Fra  Angelico,  being  of  such  loose  morals  as 
to  seduce  a  young  and  beautiful  novice  who  sat  to  him 
as  a  model  for  a  Madonna,  which  he  was  painting  for 
her  convent,  and  afterwards  refusing  to  avail  himself 
of  a  dispensation  from  the  pope  to  marry  her,  alleging 
that  between  him  and  his  mistress  there  was  no  need 
of  a  binding  ceremony.  This  fact  forcibly  illus¬ 
trates  the  individual  independence  of  character  which 
aroused  intellect  had  developed  among  men  ;  in  some 
cases  to  the  injury,  in  others  to  the  benefit  of  society. 

Lippi  was  the  inheritor  of  the  genius  of  Masaccio, 
but  not  of  his  purity.  Lie  studied  living  nature  with¬ 
out  reference  to  the  antique,  and,  although  a  thorough 
naturalist,  painted  chiefly  religious  subjects.  Land¬ 
scape  with  him,  emerging  from  its  conventional  reli¬ 
gious  type,  first  began  to  assume  its  natural  variety. 
In  color,  likewise,  he  made  a  considerable  advance ; 
but  in  the  expression  of  his  Virgins  and  saints  he  was 
unable  to  overcome  his  native  lewdness,  so  that  they 
present,  by  their  vulgar  beauty,  a  striking  contrast  to 
the  pure  types  which  had  been  up  to  this  time — 
1400-1469— the  chief  features  of  Christian  Art.  His 
Madonnas  were  portraits  of  the  transient  objects  of 
his  passions,  while  to  angels  he  gave  the  air  of  masked 
rogues.  Where,  however,  dramatic  action  and  violent 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  223 

emotions  were  required,  he  was  at  home,  and  it  is  to 
be  regretted  that  he  had  not  always  followed  the 
natural  bent  of  his  genius  instead  of  attempting  reli¬ 
gious  topics,  for  which  both  his  nature  and  habits  dis¬ 
qualified  him. 

I  refer  to  Lippi  for  a  double  purpose :  firstly,  to 
show  what  master-mind  first  led  the  way  in  the  profa¬ 
nation  of  sacred  Art,  by  which  it  eventually  became  a 
mere  thing  of  sense,  and  wholly  to  be  despised,  as  may 
be  seen  in  its  fullest  extent  in  Correggio ;  secondly,  to 
exhibit  the  character  of  the  artists  who  were  most 
honored  by  the  Medici  in  their  wily  policy  to  subvert 
the  liberties  of  their  country. 

Much,  however,  of  the  reaction  of  morals  and  spread 
of  infidelity  of  that  period  was  the  natural  result  of 
previous  restraint  and  unqualified  belief.  The  intellect 
and  imagination  had  been  too  long  under  ecclesiastical 
bondage.  Freedom  of  thought  but  confirmed  the 
faith  and  virtue  of  some  ;  with  others,  it  led  them  into 
sensuality,  or  left  them  bewildered  amid  the  mazes  of 
doubt. 

At  this  period  Italy  was  filled  with  Greek  scholars 
who  had  there  taken  refuge,  at  the  capture  of  Con¬ 
stantinople  by  the  Turks.  They  brought  with  them 
classical  manuscripts  and  the  learning — such  as  it  then 
was — that  had  come  down  from  antiquity,  filtered 
through  so  many  ages  of  ignorance  and  superstition, 
as  to  have  almost  lost  its  essence  and  become  a  mere 


224 


ART-HINTS. 


skeleton  of  verbiage.  It  was  sufficient,  however,  to 
awaken  curiosity  and  afford  additional  food  to  the 
excited  Italian  intellect.  Paganism  and  its  literature 
soon  banished  the  Bible  and  Church  traditions  from 
most  cultivated  minds.  Their  novelty  had  all  the 
fascination  of  a  new  intellectual  excitement.  As  popes 
and  statesmen  the  Medici  favoured  this  movement. 
It  diverted  men’s  minds  from  topics  of  substantial  in¬ 
terest,  which  might  affect  their  sway,  to  studies  and 
researches  which  both  chained  them  to  the  past  and 
weakened  their  powers  by  mere  verbal  culture ;  an 
accumulation  of  knowledge  to  no  useful  ends. 

I  do  not  mean  to  assert  that  those  princes  had  not 
an  honest  love  for  classical  literature.  They  had. 
But  even  they  neglected  its  wisdom  in  the  pursuit  of 
its  subtleties,  content  with  the  shadow  from  inability 
to  grasp  the  substance.  Policy  likewise  taught  them 
its  value  in  aiding  their  designs,  so  that  they  were  its 
patrons  equally  from  taste  and  interest. 

The  effect  of  the  exclusive  cultivation  of  classical 
literature  soon  manifested  itself  among  the  people. 
Christianity  was  either  openly  denied  or  hypocritically 
confessed.  Men  were  so  deluded  by  heathen  lore  as 
to  mock  at  those  who  still  held  to  the  truth  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures.  Ovid,  Catullus,  and  Tibullus  took  the 
place  of  the  inspired  poems  of  David,  Isaiah,  and  Job. 
Education  felt  the  fatal  influence.  The  fables  of 
antiquity  and  tales  of  mythology  became  the  text 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  225 

matter  of  schools.  Mind,  instead  of  progressing,  was 
actually  turning  back  two  thousand  years,  and  taking 
its  standard  from  the  lesser  light  of  Paganism.  Three 
centuries  have  passed,  and  the  entire  civilized  world  is 
still  wedded  to  a  method  which,  in  its  proper  degree,  is 
eminently  useful,  but  which,  systematized  into  barren 
learning,  usurps ’the  time  and  place  of  nobler  studies, 
conferring  no  benefit  adequate  to  the  mental  applica¬ 
tion  it  requires.  Indeed,  most  of  the  youth  who  re¬ 
ceive  a  classical  education  acquire  their  first  and  often 
strongest  impressions  from  Grecian  mythology,  to  the 
neglect  and  consequent  indifference  of  the  more  glow¬ 
ing  poetry  and  spiritual  truths  of  the  Hebrew  writers- 
If  such  be  the  result  in  countries  where  the  entire 
Bible  is  in  the  hands  of  all  men,  what  must  it  have 
been  in  countries  which  were  forbidden  its  free  perusal, 
and  where  the  population  were  taught  to  rely  for  sal¬ 
vation  on  ceremonies  or  penances  which  wearied  their 
bodies,  and  in  traditions  and  dogmas  that  equally  dis¬ 
gusted  their  minds  ?  Ecclesiastics  themselves  went  to 
heathen  literature  for  relief.  They  sickened  at  their 
own  idolatry,  and  turned  wistfully  to  another.  Scep¬ 
ticism  found  entrance  even  into  the  holy  see.  The 
church,  by  prohibiting  healthful  food  to  the  intellect, 
had  so  weakened  it  as  to  leave  it  without  judgment  to 
choose  between  good  and  evil.  Consequently,  from 
famine  it  fell  to  feasting,  without  testing  the  whole¬ 
someness  of  that  which  was  presented. 


L 


226 


ART-HINTS. 


But  other  causes  contributed  to  the  increasing 
scepticism,  and  consequent  depravation  of  manners, 
beside  the  too  great  prominence  given  to  classical  lite¬ 
rature.  To  know  all  that  the  ancients  knew,  which 
could  enlarge  thought  or  influence  taste  aright,  could 
not  by  itself  be  otherwise  than  beneficial  as  an  auxiliary 
to  modern  civilization.  But  to  know  only  what  they 
knew,  which  to  them  was  faith,  to  moderns  became 
infidelity  and  an  incentive  to  sensuousness.  Pagan 
Art  was  raised  at  once  to  the  standard  of  excellence 
for  Christian  artists.  The  monuments  and  statuary  of 
Greece  and  Rome  took  that  position  of  ideal  perfection 
which  modern  Art  had  hitherto  sought  from  out  of  the 
depths  of  its  own  spiritual  truths.  From  celestial 
beauty  artists  descended  to  carved  stone  and  imperfect 
flesh  for  their  models.  Their  works  in  consequence 
partook  of  the  spirit  of  their  choice.  Naturalism,  in 
its  lower  interpretation,  daily  gained  ground  upon  the 
purely  spiritual  Art.  Madonnas,  Magdalens,  and 
saints  were  picked  up  from  streets  and  stews  ;  by  the 
transforming  power  of  paint,  viragos  became  holy  and 
humble  women,  saints  in  glory,  while  the  type  of 
chastity  was  often  taken  from  mercenary  voluptuous¬ 
ness  itself.  Such  were  the  images  before  which  the 
youth  were  often  required  to  kneel  at  the  family  or 
church  altars.  Men  could  scarcely  look  upon  the  new 
style  of  Holy  Virgin,  clothed  in  the  garb  of  a  courtesan, 
so  says  Rio,  instead  of  the  traditional  simplicity  of 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  227 

attire,  without  erotic  desire.  In  one  church  the  clergy 
were  compelled  to  remove  a  naked  St.  Sebastian  on 
account  of  its  interfering  too  warmly  with  the  devotion 
of  the  nuns.  A  worthy  citizen,  who  was  scandalized 
at  the  lascivious  appearance  of  a  Madonna,  which  he 
had  ordered  for  his  private  chapel,  requested  the  artist, 
Nunziata,  to  paint  him  another  of  an  age  and  an  ap¬ 
pearance  more  in  keeping  with  the  pure  mother  of 
Christ.  He  sent  him  a  ‘  Virgin  ’  with  a  long  goat’s 
beard  upon  its  chin.  Consider  the  distance  in  faith 
and  purity  between  Nunziata  and  Angelico,  the  ex¬ 
tremes  of  religious  and  profane  Art !  A  gulf  as  wide 
was  now  rapidly  opening  between  two  classes  of  citizens  ; 
the  one  upholding  the  Medici,  the  other  sustaining  the 
reforms  of  Savonarola. 

Deeply  impressed  with  the  growing  corruption  of 
the  age,  and  its  rapid  progress  towards  Paganism  as 
it  existed  when  despotism  and  licentiousness  jointly 
swayed  the  nations  of  antiquity,  Savonarola,  a  simple 
Dominican  monk,  resolved  to  devote  his  energies,  and 
if  need  be  his  life,  to  the  reformation  of  his  country¬ 
men.  It  is  to  be  remarked  that,  if  the  deepest  scandals 
to  religion  came  from  the  bosom  of  the  Christian 
Church,  so  did  the  most  strenuous  efforts  to  revive 
virtue  and  purity.  The  wickedness  of  Pope  Alex¬ 
ander  VI.  nerved  the  heroism  of  Savonarola  to  the 
futile  attempt  to  recal  a  Borgia  to  a  sense  of  his  duties 
as  the  successor  of  St.  Peter.  A  few  years  later,  the 


228 


ART-HINTS. 


extravagance  and  scepticism  of  a  Medician  pope, 
Leo  X.,  aroused  in  another  monk  the  thunders  of  an 
indignant  eloquence,  that,  equally  unsuccessful  to  re¬ 
vive  apostolic  faith  and  practice  in  the  heart  of  Chris¬ 
tendom,  finally  tore,  from  Romanism  nearly  half  a 
continent,  and  gave  to  it  the  doctrines  of  Luther. 

Savonarola  has  been  called  the  precursor  of  Luther. 
His  life,  like  the  great  German’s,  was  one  continual 
protest  against  the  corruptions  of  the  Roman  Church  ; 
but  he  continued  to  acknowledge  its  authority  and 
practise  its  rites,  while  refusing  obedience  to  the  un¬ 
worthy  occupant  of  the  apostolic  chair.  His  mind 
was  in  a  transition  state,  wavering  between  truth  that 
urged  him  forward,  and  education  that  bound  him  to 
the  past.  Still  had  success  remained  finally  with  him, 
there  is  not  a  doubt  but  that  the  Reformation  in  Italy, 
even  if  it  did  not  assume  the  same  doctrinal  and  poli¬ 
tical  shapes  that  it  did  in  Germany,  would  have  been 
no  less  effective  towards  promoting  human  progress. 

The  bias  of  Savonarola  was  decidedly  republican. 
He  had  no  faith  in  popes  or  princes,  such  as  then 
ruled.  The  people,  enlightened  as  to  their  true  in¬ 
terests,  he  considered  were  qualified  to  govern  them¬ 
selves.  With  the  authority  of  a  prophet,  speaking  to 
the  people,  like  Samuel  of  old,  in  the  name  of  the 
Most  High,  he  sought  to  purify  the  land  from  idolatry 
and  lewdness  of  every  kind,  hewing  to  pieces  the  cap 
five  vices,  with  the  intent  to  re-establish  the  kingdom 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  229 

of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  hearts  of  all.  The  fouler 
features  of  Paganism  had  taken  deep  root  and  spread 
widely.  Against  them  he  directed  an  eloquence  de¬ 
rived  from  a  close  study  of  the  Bible,  sustained  by 
constant  prayer,  and  inspired  by  the  deepest  conviction 
of  the  necessity  of  his  mission — it  may  be  also  of  his 
direct  authority  as  an  ambassador  from  heaven — with 
an  effect  that  was  truly  marvellous.  A  preacher,  with 
his  Bible  in  the  one  hand,  boldly,  and,  while  his  fol¬ 
lowers  kept  within  the  bounds  of  reason  and  charity, 
successfully,  attacked  a  pope,  whom  no  crime  deterred 
from  his  revenge,  and  a  powerful  family,  who  ruled 
their  country  chiefly  through  the  seductions  of  taste 
and  pleasure. 

Had  his  aim  been  confined  simply  to  a  reformation 
of  manners  and  improvement  in  the  system  of  educa¬ 
tion,  there  would  have  been  more  ground  for  per¬ 
manent  success,  because  all  good  citizens,  without 
reference  to  political  views,  must  have  been  convinced 
of  their  necessity.  Even  Lorenzo  di  Medici  could  not 
but  have  countenanced  the  labours  of  a  monk  directed 
solely  to  the  cause  of  piety.  The  classical  taste  re¬ 
quired  pruning,  not  extermination.  But  it  was  not  an 
age  for  moderation.  Extremes  meet.  However  up¬ 
right  and  reasonable  Savonarola  might  have  been  in 
the  outset,  he  could  not  altogether  control  the  results 
of  his  own  doctrines,  after  the  feelings  of  the  people 
were  aroused.  On  the  other  hand,  although  many  of 


230 


ART-HINTS. 


the  partisans  of  the  Medici  were  gentlemen  of  taste 
and  erudition,  they  were  equally  unable  to  check  the 
spreading  corruption  which  came  in  with  the  downfall 
of  the  religious  school  and  the  revival  of  classical  know¬ 
ledge.  Savonarola  preached  to,  and  relied  upon,  the 
people.  For  authority  and  arguments  he  looked  to 
heaven.  His  doctrines  were  necessarily  democratic. 
The  constitution  which  he  drew  up  for  the  Florentines 
was  pronounced  by  Machiavelli  to  be  the  very  best 
form  of  government  ever  devised  for  them.  Among 
his  friends  and  admirers  were  men  of  the  purest  lives 
and  greatest  genius.  Even  John  de  Mirandole,  then 
esteemed  a  miracle  of  learning,  bore  witness  to  his  re¬ 
markable  powers ;  as  did  also  the  poet  Politian,  who 
equally  testified  to  the  extent  of  his  scientific  attain¬ 
ments  and  the  disinterestedness  of  his  piety.  Both  of 
these  men  were  partisans  of  Lorenzo  di  Medici,  and 
the  latter  an  ardent  lover  of  the  profane  literature 
which  Savonarola  sought  to  displace.  There  can  be 
no  better  evidence  of  the  true  greatness  of  Savonarola 
than  the  enthusiastic  devotion  of  minds  like  Fra  Bar¬ 
tolomeo  and  Lorenzo  de  Credi,  both  artists  of  high 
renown ;  while  even  the  Platonic  poet  and  chanonine, 
Benivieni,  a  friend  of  the  Medici,  in  the  hour  of  his 
danger  published  an  energetic  defence  of  his  doctrines. 
Raphael,  too,  admired  his  character ;  and  ten  years 
after  his  death,  under  the  pontificate  of  Julius  II., 
honored  his  memory  by  placing  him  among  the  most 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  231 

celebrated  doctors  of  the  Roman  Church,  in  his  famous 
fresco  in  the  Vatican  of  the  ‘  Dispute  of  the  Holy 
Sacrament.’  The  solitary  and  morose  Buonarotti  was 
a  member  of  the  political  party  based  upon  his  prin¬ 
ciples,  and  both  fought  and  labored  for  its  existence. 

•  Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  eminent  men  of  most  opposite 
characters  and  all  parties  united  in  the  bestowal  of 
their  suffrages  upon  Savonarola  as  a  scholar  and  patriot. 
It  may  he  inferred,  then,  that  wherein  he  failed  it  was 
owing  more  to  the  fatal  tendencies  of  the  times  than  to 
his  own  fanaticism. 

It  is  universally  acknowledged  that  extreme  danger 
requires  extreme  measures.  There  can  he  no  doubt 
that  religion  was  scandalized  in  the  extreme  when 
Alexander  VI.  employed  the  first  painters  in  the  capital 
of  Christendom  to  adorn  the  papal  palace  and  the  castle 
of  St.  Angelo  with  the  histories  of  his  lustful  and 
tyrannical  family.  But  not  content  with  this  mockery 
of  virtue  in  the  Vatican  itself,  he  had  a  notorious 
courtesan  painted  as  the  chaste  Virgin  ;  thus  stamping 
himself  as  shameless  as  he  was  profligate. 

The  popes  and  princes  of  the  family  of  the  Medici 
were,  it  is  true,  guilty  of  no  such  positive  outrages 
against  the  religious  mind,  but  they  encouraged  the 
increasing  depravity  of  manners  and  contempt  of 
sacred  subjects  by  directly  patronising  the  revival  of 
pagan  Art.  Pallajuolo,  Ghirlandajo,  Luca  Signorelli, 
and  other  able  artists  were  required  to  perpetuate  the 


232 


ART-HINTS. 


fabulous  histories  of  heathen  gods  and  goddesses  in  all 
their  scandalous  details  of  lewdness  and  nudity  for  the 
edification  of  the  inhabitants  of  Christian  edifices. 

Subjects  taken  from  classical  history  and  mythology, 
and  illustrated  by  Art,  are  legitimate  studies  for  all 
interested  in  knowing  what  mankind  did  and  what, 
they  thought  scores  of  centuries  gone  by.  In  this 
respect  they  are  valuable,  and  worthy  of  the  pencil  of 
a  Raphael  to  bring  them  before  us  in  living  energy  and 
truth.  The  objection  to  them  lies  in  the  selection  and 
treatment.  They  can  be  so  rendered  as  to  be  either 
simply  interesting  as  an  exposition  of  the  past,  or  posi¬ 
tively  hurtful  as  a  means  of  corruption  of  present 
generations.  Raphael  stands  conspicuous  for  the 
former  manner.  He  could  change  his  subjects  at  the 
command  of  princes,  but  he  carried  into  them  his 
own  innate  refinement.  Side  by  side  in  the  Vatican 
are  his  noblest  works  of  Christian  faith  and  classical 
learning,  each  pure  and  sincere  in  spirit. 

Not  so  with  lesser  minds.  They  corrupted  Art,  and 
the  Art  they  were  called  to  execute  in  turn  corrupted 
them,  while  both  united  in  porrupting  the  people. 
Poetry  and  music  equally  become  vile  instruments  for 
the  promotion  of  universal  depravity  in  this  miscalled 
golden  age. 

It  is  curious  to  observe  that  the  same  fact  which 
marked  the  decadence  of  Art  in  ancient  Rome  under 
the  emperors,  was  equally  conspicuous  at  the  com- 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  233 

raenceraent  of  its  degradation  in  the  modern  city  and 
elsewhere  in  Italy.  The  religious  Art  of  antiquity 
had  its  ideal  types  of  mythological  beauty,  the  same  as 
its  successor  of  modern  times  had  its  conventional 
forms  and  countenances  of  celestial  beauty.  While 
the  Greek  and  Roman  Art  held  firmly  to  its  ideality 
it  was  respected ;  but  as  soon  as,  at  the  command  of 
emperors  and  princes,  it  substituted  their  likenesses 
and  those  of  their  female  favorites  for  the  features  of 
gods  and  goddesses,  both  Art  and  Religion  declined. 
The  difference  between  the  Olympus  of  Homer  and 
that  of  Nero  wras  the  difference  between  the  senate 
of  republican  Rome,  when  Brennus  slaughtered  its 
members,  and  what  it  was  when  an  emperor  made  his 
pet  horse  a  senator.  Jupiter  had  degenerated  into 
a  Heliogabalus,  and  Venus  into  a  Messalina.  The 
same  relative  decline  in  Art  and  its  free  spirit  took 
place  after  popes,  princes,  and  monks  were  able  to 
set  aside  the  celestial  forms  of  spiritualized  ideality 
for  their  own  earth-worn  frames  and  sensualized  faces ; 
or  worse  yet,  for  those  of  the  partners  of  their  crimes 
and  debaucheries. 

Art,  with  such  men  as  Raphael,  Tintoretto,  or 
Titian,  saved  itself  by  their  consummate  skill  from 
entire  spiritual  degradation.  At  all  events,  their 
portraits  took  not  the  place  of,  but  bent  the  knee  to, 
divinity.  They  and  kindred  minds  were,  however, 
but  exceptions,  whose  example  was  lost  in  inferior 


234 


ART-HINTS. 


souls.  Spiritualities  were  reduced  to  the  level  of 
humanity,  often  buried  beneath  its  lusts,  or  coated 
with  contemptible  vanities,  so  that  which  in  purer 
times  had  been  manna  for  the  soul  now  became  “  a 
stumbling-block  and  rock  of  offence.” 

Contemporaneous  with  the  decline  of  high  Art  were 
the  gradual  encroachments  of  princes  upon  civil  liberty. 
Let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  Savonarola,  after  possess¬ 
ing  greater  influence  and  loftier  moral  power  than 
ever  a  Medici  possessed,  because  founded  upon  the 
noblest  instincts  of  his  fellow-citizens,  and  absolute 
only  in  the  degree  that  he  convinced  their  minds,  gave 
a  constitution  to  his  country.  The  family  of  the 
Medici,  having  in  vain  employed  Art  and  wealth  to 
obtain  the  supreme  authority,  finally  leagued  them¬ 
selves  with  foreign  despots,  and  by  force  of  arms 
destroyed  the  constitution  of  Florence,  slew  or  exiled 
its  ablest  citizens,  and  fastened  upon  Tuscany  a 
tyranny  so  subtle  and  soul-crushing  that  even  at  the 
expiration  of  three  centuries,  under  ameliorated  rule, 
its  population  is  wofully  deficient  in  manliness  of 
character  and  patriotic  virtue. 

What  would  have  been  the  result  had  Savonarola 
been  able  to  permanently  establish  the  semi-hierarchal 
government  which  his  principles  implied,  can  only  be 
inferred  from  similar  experiments  among  other  nations. 
Among  none,  however,  has  the  basis  been  so  pure  and 
enlightened  as  that  promulgated  by  him.  Unlike  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  235 

Puritans,  he  conceded  the  necessity  and  power  of  the 
imaginative  faculties,  but  sought  to  direct  them  to 
exalted  ends.  The  natural  world  was  to  him  a  source 
of  joy  in  its  beauty.  He  laboured  to  divorce  the 
material  element  from  the  heavenly,  and  to  turn  the 
hearts  of  his  auditors  to  the  contemplation  of  its  divine 
essence.  Deriving  his  standard  from  his  own  lofty 
conceptions  of  the  capacities  of  man  for  virtue,  he 
strove  to  exalt  him  to  the  same  pinnacle.  His  en¬ 
thusiasm  accomplished  so  much  that  he  was  himself 
led  to  believe  it  to  be  the  result  of  miraculous  power. 
He  preached  separately  to  men,  women,  and  children. 
Hope  dawned  upon  his  mind  brightest  through  his 
success  with  youth.  In  one  of  his  sermons  to  them  he 
remarked,  “  that  a  child  who  is  protected  from  sin 
until  of  age  for  self-judgment,  acquires  so  great  a 
purity  of  mind  and  heart  that  the  angels  of  heaven 
come  frequently  to  converse  with  him.”  He  demanded 
of  children  their  prayers  for  Divine  success  to  him  in 
his  great  work  of  national  reformation,  and  that  the 
hearts  of  their  parents  might  be  divinely  guided  in  the 
election  of  their  magistrates. 

A  more  comprehensive  reform  of  all  the  tastes  and 
affections  of  a  people  was  never  undertaken,  and  yet 
in  the  main  it  embraced  little  that  was  unreasonable  or 
above  the  capacity  of  human  nature,  however  much 
it  might  disagree  with  its  carnal  propensities.  In 
education  he  claimed  that  “youth  should  not  receive 


236 


ART-HINTS. 


a  lesson  of  Paganism  without  receiving  at  the  same 
time  a  lesson  of  Christianity,  and  that  they  should  be 
equally  instructed  in  eloquence  and  truth.”  The 
devotion  of  saints  and  martyrs  he  placed  above  the 
heroism  of  the  great  men  of  antiquity,  and  of  more 
consequence  for  Christians  to  know.  Love  and  obe¬ 
dience  to  God  were  his  two  governing  principles.  He 
demanded,  it  is  true,  the  whole  heart,  and  would 
accept  of  no  partial  sacrifice.  In  this,  of  course,  the 
world’s  experience  prognosticates  failure.  This,  how¬ 
ever,  served  but  to  stimulate  him,  hoping,  if  not 
believing,  in  the  Utopia  of  a  perfect  government  and 
pure  citizens.  His  course  was  marked  by  those 
seeming  contradictions  incidental  to  all  great  minds  in 
progress,  which  have  led  the  Protestants  to  claim  him 
as  the  precursor  of  their  Reformation,  while  •  the 
Romanists,  who  burned  him,  have  since  sainted  his 
memory.  Centuries  after  his  ashes  were  thrown  to 
the  winds,  the  Florentines  were  accustomed  to  scatter 
flowers  over  the  site  of  his  martyrdom  on  the  eve  of  its 
anniversary. 

It  would  be  interesting  to  trace  the  actions  and 
motives  of  this  remarkable  man  to  the  tragic  scenes  of 
his  death,  were  it  within  the  scope  of  this  work.  I 
have  introduced  him  only  as  the  antagonistic  principle 
in  Art  to  the  Medici— the  sacred  and  profane  elements 
being  now  engaged  in  mortal  combat — and  I  must 
confine  my  remarks  to  the  part  he  more  directly  took 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  237 

in  endeavouring  to  restore  the  former  to  its  legitimate 
position  in  the  hearts  of  Italians.  For  eight  years  he 
labored  to  this  end,  with  all  the  might  of  a  Christian 
soul. 

I  have  said  that  his  hopes  rested  mainly  upon  the 
youth.  It  was,  indeed,  an  extraordinary  spectacle  to 
the  Florentines  to  see  their  children,  ordinarily  so  rude, 
disobedient,  and  restless  with  ambition,  submit  to  the 
absolute  control  of  a  simple  monk,  who  spake  to  them 
only  in  words  of  exhortation  or  reproach.  At  his  bid¬ 
ding  they  devoted  themselves  to  pious  exercises,  the 
most  contrary  to  their  natural  inclinations,  reciting  in 
their  homes  the  religious  lessons  he  had  prepared, 
while  out  of  doors  they  attended  his  sermons,  and 
joined  with  the  full  power  of  enthusiastic  devotion  in 
chants  to  God  and  the  Virgin. 

To  distract  them  from  profane  music,  Savonarola 
had  composed  sacred  songs,  adapted  to  the  popular 
airs.  These  took  the  place  of  the  licentious  words 
with  which  they  had  been  accustomed  to  intermingle 
in  the  orgies  of  the  carnival.  He  experienced  con¬ 
tinual  opposition ;  religion  was  often  burlesqued ; 
sacred  things  profaned  ;  threats  were  uttered  and 
violence  attempted ;  feuds  arose  ;  the  pope  forbade 
him  to  preach ;  but  amid  the  confusion  the  undaunted 
monk  went  perseveringly  on,  until  all  Florence  was,  as 
it  were,  swayed  by  his  will. 

In  no  respect  was  his  influence  more  perceptible 


238 


ART-HINTS. 


than  in  the  change  of  public  opinion  on  objects  of  Art. 
Aware  of  the  power  of  persuasion  and  example  over 
force,  he  did  not  undertake  to  prohibit  the  music  to 
which  the  populace  had  been  accustomed,  but  he 
sought  to  win  them  to  a  purer  taste  by  familiar  airs 
with  better  words  sang  by  infantile  voices.  In  this  he 
showed  a  political  wisdom  that  met  with  deserved 
success. 

For  a  model-convent  he  proposed  that  the  monks 
should  particularly  occupy  themselves  with  sculpture 
and  painting,  believing  that  religion  would  so  keep 
their  labors  pure  that  they  should  be  an  unfailing 
source  of  spiritual  exaltation  to  laymen.  Through 
Savonarola’s  influence  the  entire  family  of  Robbia 
devoted  their  new  invention  —  which  unfortunately 
perished  with  them  —  of  permanently  coloring  and 
hardening  moulded  clay  figures,  to  his  cherished  ideas. 
Distinguished  warriors  hailed  the  monk  as  “  the  pastor 
of  Florence,”  and  were  ready  to  fight  for  him  had  he 
countenanced  force. 

In  1496  Savonarola  organized  a  spectacle,  which  in 
its  results  the  year  following  has  no  precedent  in 
history,  unless  the  burning  of  the  books  at  Ephesus  in 
the  days  of  St.  Paul  be  considered  a  like  occurrence. 
That  was  partial  and  momentary  in  its  effects.  The 
sacrifice  of  the  Florentines  was  repeated  annually  for 
several  years,  and  embraced  every  variety  of  objects 
and  literature  which  could  be  considered  in  the  most 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  239 

remote  degree  as  administering  to  the  lust  of  the  eye 
or  the  corruption  of  the  heart.  True,  it  was  the 
throe  of  fervid  enthusiasm,  and  produced  a  reaction 
fatal  to  its  originators.  But  all  noble  deeds  are  the 
offspring,  not  of  selfish  calculation,  but  of  self-enduring 
feeling. 

The  occasion  selected  for  the  novel  ceremony  was 
Palm  Sunday.  A  long  procession  of  boys,  to  the 
number  of  eight  thousand,  defiled  through  the  streets 
of  Florence,  holding  in  one  hand  a  small  red  cross, 
and  in  the  other  an  olive  branch.  Some  of  their 
number  were  selected  to  receive  alms  for  the  Monts- 
de-Piete,  which  Savonarola  was  about  to  establish,  in 
order  that  the  poor  might  have  offices  where  they 
could  pawn  their  property  in  time  of  need,  without 
being  fleeced  by  greedy  bankers  and  money-changers. 
The  boys  were  succeeded  by  the  clergy  and  different 
religious  orders  in  full  canonical  costume ;  after  them 
followed  an  immense  crowd  of  citizens  of  all  ages  and 
conditions.  A  numerous  company  of  girls  clad  in 
white,  with  white  garlands  upon  their  heads,  accom¬ 
panied  by  their  mothers,  closed  the  procession,  which 
moved  along  alternately  chanting  original  hymns  and 
singing  patriotic  songs.  All  the  bells  of  the  city,  and 
their  number  was  myriad,  pealed  joyfully  forth  in 
unison  with  the  many  thousands  of  youthful  voices  that 
rent  the  air  in-  praise  to  God  and  salutation  to  their 
country. 


240 


ART-HINTS. 


Rio,  from  whom  I  mainly  derived  this  narrative, 
states  that  the  spectators  were  melted  into  tears. 
Even  many  of  the  “  tiedes,”  as  the  partisans  of  the 
opposite  party  were  called,  who  came  to  mock  and 
interrupt  the  spectacle,  were  carried  away  by  the 
universal  enthusiasm,  and  wept  and  blessed  among  the 
rest.  The  amount  of  money  and  jewels  collected  was 
sufficient  to  establish  a  charitable  bank  for  pawning  in 
each  quarter  of  the  city. 

A  still  more  solemn  procession  was  organized  in  the 
succeeding  years,  to  represent  the  triumph  of  Christi¬ 
anity  over  Paganism.  The  children  went  from  house 
to  house  demanding,  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ  and 
his  holy  mother,  that  to  them  should  be  given  up  every¬ 
thing  anathematized.  By  this  phrase  was  compre¬ 
hended  all  objects  of  luxury  or  Art  condemned  by 
their  pastor. 

Every  possible  method  to  enhance  the  magnificence 
and  striking  effects  of  the  spectacle  had  been  put  in 
operation  by  Savonarola.  To  more  forcibly  appeal  to 
the  imagination  of  the  Florentines,  and  attest  his 
influence  over  customs  consecrated  by  usage  from  time 
immemorial,  he  selected  for  this  fete  the  day  on  which 
the  carnival,  in  all  its  pagan  license,  had  heretofore 
been  inaugurated.  Its  object  being  the  destruction 
of  profane,  and  the  triumph  of  Christian  Art,  the  most 
remarkable  works  of  the  latter,  including  an  infant 
Jesus  by  Donabello  upon  a  gold  pedestal,  from  which 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  241 

he  was  represented  blessing  the  people  with  one  hand, 
while  the  other  held  the  cross,  nails,  and  crown  of 
thorns  of  his  passion,  were  carried  with  the  procession. 
With  flying  banners,  and  accompanied  by  the  vene¬ 
rated  images  of  saints  and  the  “  noble  army  of 
martyrs/’  it  traversed  the  city,  collecting  alms  as 
before,  and  chanting  psalms,  hymns,  and  patriotic  songs, 
closing  with  a  pious  invective  against  the  carnival, 
thundered  forth  by  the  entire  mass  of  children. 

The  number  and  value  of  the  spoils  collected  were 
astonishing ;  not  only  were  the  tales  of  Boccaccio  and 
other  romances  of  the  same  character  given  up, — the 
erotic  works  of  antiquity,  and  the  vile  modern  imita¬ 
tions  then  so  much  in  vogue,  the  vulgar  and  licentious 
songs  and  musical  instruments — but  paintings  and 
sculpture  of  great  price,  though  of  immoral  or  dubious 
tendency.  Owners  and  artists  rivalled  each  other  in 
their  contributions  to  the  coming  holocaust.  Several 
statues  of  antiquity,  to  which,  from  their  voluptuous 
expression  and  general  resemblance,  had  been  given 
the  names  of  the  reigning  beauties  of  the  day,  were 
also  sacrificed.  Fra  Bartolomeo,  Lorenzo  di  Credi, 
and  other  artists,  brought  forth  all  their  studies  of  the 
nude  human  figure,  and  deposited  them  in  the  hands 
of  the  children  to  be  borne  to  the  scaffold,  where  they 
were  to  be  burnt. 

This  had  been  erected  in  the  public  square.  It  was 
surmounted  by  a  demoniacal  figure,  emblematical  of 

M 


242 


ART-HINTS. 


the  carnival  and  its  ignoble  pleasures.  As  soon  as  all 
the  objects  collected  had  been  deposited  upon  the 
scaffold,  it  was  fired ;  the  people  uniting  with  one 
accord  in  a  solemnly-uttered  “  Te  Deum,”  while  the 
bells  of  the  city  rang,  and  the  trumpets  of  the  military 
added  their  deep  notes  to  the  universal  chorus. 

Savonarola  had  pushed  reform  too  far  to  hope  for 
final  success  against  the  powerful  cabal  now  arrayed 
against  him.  Many,  probably,  of  the  well-intentioned 
and  thinking  citizens  felt  that  their  free  will  was  in¬ 
fringed  upon  ;  the  bankers  and  usurers  hated  him  be¬ 
cause  their  gains  were  lessened  by  his  charitable  esta¬ 
blishments  ;  sensualists  missed  their  accustomed  supply 
of  carnal  beauty,  and  lusts  grew  hot  by  restraint ; 
literary  men  despaired  in  seeing  their  profane  scholar¬ 
ship  made  of  no  account ;  artists  and  even  mechanics 
felt  the  evil  effects  of  the  too-sudden  closing  of  the 
usual  avenues  of  luxuries ;  while  aristocrats  of  every 
degree  hated  him  for  his  democratic  doctrines,  and 
priestly  hypocrites  for  his  purity  and  sincerity  :  in  fine, 
every  class  whose  tastes  disposed  them  towards  an 
unlimited  indulgence  of  pleasure  or  sensual  desire, 
or  whose  livelihood  depended  in  any  degree  upon  the 
past  corruption  of  manners,  leagued  themselves  against 
him.  With  the  assistance  of  his  mortal  enemy,  the 
Borgian  pope,  they  finally  compassed  his  destruction. 
In  Savonarola  terminated  the  last  grand  systematized 
effort  to  place  Art  exclusively  upon  a  Christian  basis. 


ARCHITECTURE  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  243 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  VARIOUS  DIRECTIONS  OF  NATURALISM  IN  ITALY. 

Although  religious  Art  in  its  strict  purity  perished 
with  Savonarola,  yet  it  left  its  seeds  in  mighty  minds, 
which  gave  it,  as  a  whole,  a  more  complete  and  accept¬ 
able  expression.  The  mystical  artists  strove  for  too 
much  in  seeking  to  withdraw  Art  wholly  from  hu¬ 
manity.  Countenances  illumined  with  holy  peace  and 
love,  radiant  with  celestial  joy  in  triumphing  over  the 
infirmities  of  the  flesh,  emaciated  by  self-inflicted 
penances,  or  racked  by  the  fierce  tortures  of  martyr¬ 
dom,  were  indeed  good  in  themselves,  and  read  lessons 
of  high  import  to  man  ;  but  they  did  not  embody  the 
entire  excellence  of  Art,  and  consequently  failed  to 
satisfy  the  human  mind  in  its  love  for  universal  Beauty, 
however  much  they  might  exalt  its  spirit.  Natural 
forms  were  in  a  measure  despised,  or  rendered  in  so 
conventional  a  manner,  as  in  some  degree  to  partake 
of  the  character  of  hieroglyphics.  The  human  figure, 
in  particular,  was  carefully  concealed  in  ample  robes 


244 


ART-HINTS. 


of  the  chastest  fashioning.  Beauty,  which  was  not  of 
strictly  a  moral  or  spiritual  type,  was  either  unat¬ 
tempted  or  failed  from  technical  ignorance. 

Naturalism,  in  its  wholesome  operations,  sought  to 
unite  spiritual  with  physical  beauty.  It  believed  that 
all  Nature  was  a  worthy  object  of  study.  Putting  its 
trust  in  the  divinity  which,  in  more  or  less  degree, 
invests  all  the^works  of  the  Creator,  it  went  forth  with 
sympathising  power,  to  explore  every  human  emotion, 
and  to  probe  the  entire  capacities  of  creation  to  the 
intent  to  make  of  Art  a  harmonious  whole.  Those 
laws  of  matter,  through  which  alone  the  mind  can 
operate  on  earth,  had  been  indissolubly  connected  in 
time  with  the  spirit,  and  Beauty  made  the  most  perfect 
medium  of  interpretation ;  therefore,  what  God  had 
joined  together,  naturalism  did  not  dare  to  put  asunder. 
Indeed,  from  the  glimpses  of  heavenly  spheres  which 
have  been  occasionally  revealed  to  holy  men,  we  may 
gather  that  perfect  beauty  is  the  combination  of  those 
forms,  colors,  and  melodies  with  all  that  is  true  and 
glorious  in  spirit,  which  constitute  “  the  things  ”  that 
God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  Him,  and 
“  which  eye  hath  not  seen  nor  ear  heard,  neither  have 
entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive.” 

By  naturalism,  therefore,  is  understood  the  artistic 
study  of  Nature  in  its  entire  physical  and  spiritual 
completeness.  From  it  proceeds  most  of  the  varieties 
of  schools  which  have  risen  in  modern  civilization. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  245 

Classical  Art  was  inspired  by  its  mythology,  and  bor¬ 
rowed  of  Nature,  chiefly  its  highest  type,  the  human 
figure,  which  it  tempered  with  earth-born  divinity. 
For  the  lower  forms  of  creation  it  had  but  doubtful 
relish.  Mediaeval  religious  Art,  overlooking  Nature, 
aspired  to  spiritual  truths.  Naturalism  seeks  to  restore 
the  balance,  and  to  give  to  Art  the  variety  and  beauty 
of  Nature. 

The  influence  of  the  old  religious  masters  is  strongly 
marked  in  Michael  Angelo,  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  and 
Raphael.  Their  early  education  was  derived  from 
them.  Michael  Angelo,  however,  also  studied  in  his 
youth  the  classical  models  which  were  collected  in  the 
garden  of  his  patron,  Lorenzo  di  Medici,  and  from 
them,  probably,  strengthened  his  native  bias  towards 
design.  From  these  artists  down,  there  is  a  progressive 
neglect  of  spiritual  vitality,  and  a  corresponding  atten¬ 
tion  to  externals,  resulting  in  the  gradual  decline  of 
Art  in  Italy,  and  many  fluctuations  elsewhere.  As 
symbolism  preceded^  naturalism  on  the  one  hand,  so 
another  element  in  Art  arose  from  it,  which,  for  want 
of  a  better  term,  I  must  define  as  sensualism.  They 
were  its  extremes :  the  latter,  as  its  name  indicates, 
was  the  corruption  of  Art,  not  only  by  its  perversion  to 
the  service  of  mere  sense,  but  in  its  worst  features  a 
monster,  the  joint  offspring  of  festering  paganism  and 
meretricious  modernism. 

Those  of  my  readers  who  have  never  had  an  oppor- 


246 


ART-HINTS. 


tunity  to  observe  for  themselves  the  base  styles  of 
ornamentation,  and  the  foulness  of  pictorial  and  sculp¬ 
tured  Art  which  came  in  with  the  Renaissance  of  pagan 
studies,  under  the  patronage  of  despotism,  may  deem 
these  epithets  harsh  ;  fortunately  the  taste  for  them 
has  not  outlived  the  immoral  rules  in  which  they  were 
generated.  Examples  survive,  however,  in  sufficient 
number  on  continental  Europe,  to  stamp  their  age  as 
the  most  licentious  and  infidel  since  the  Roman  empire. 
It  possessed  knowledge  without  faith.  Science  was  the 
servant  of  princes,  and  its  laws  became  the  rule  of  Art. 
The  people,  from  freedom  of  thought  and  vigor  of 
action,  became  slavish  instruments  of  aristocratic  am¬ 
bition.  All  of  the  architecture  of  this  period,  say  from 
the  final  triumph  of  the  Medici  and  kindred  princes  in 
Italy,  and  during  the  long  Bourbon  rules  in  Spain  and 
France,  influencing,  as  they  did,  Europe  generally, 
was  characterised  by  pride,  luxury,  and  profuseness  of 
pagan  ornament.  Rusldn,  in  the  third  volume  of  his 
‘Stories  of  Venice,’1  has  so  eloquently  expressed  this 
truth,  that  I  cannot  do  better  than  quote  a  portion 
of  his  remarks  on  this  period  of  Renaissance  architec¬ 
ture,  though  I  cannot  follow  him  to  the  entire  extent 
of  its  condemnation,  and  desire  to  revive  the  Gothic 
for  domestic  purposes.  Whatever  Mr.  Ruskin  writes 
on  Art  has  meaning,  and  deserves  attentive  considera¬ 
tion. 


Page  59. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  247 

“  And  if  we  think  over  this  matter  a  little  (the  pride 
of  state  as  the  chief  feature  of  Renaissance  architec¬ 
ture),  we  shall  soon  feel  that  in  those  meagre  lines 
there  is  indeed  an  expression  of  aristocracy  in  its  worst 
characters ;  coldness,  perfectness  of  training,  incapa¬ 
bility  of  emotion,  want  of  sympathy  with  the  weakness 
of  lower  men,  blank,  hopeless,  haughty  self-sufficiency. 
All  these  characters  are  written  in  the  Renaissance 
architecture  as  plainly  as  if  they  were  graven  on  it  in 
words.  For,  observe,  all  other  architectures  have 
something  in  them  that  common  men  can  enjoy ;  some 
concession  to  the  simplicities  of  humanity,  some  daily 
bread  for  the  hunger  of  the  multitude.  Quaint  fancy, 
rich  ornament,  bright  color,  something  that  shows  a 
sympathy  with  men  of  ordinary  minds  and  hearts,  and 
this  wrought  out  at  least  in  Gothic,  with  a  rudeness 
showing  that  the  workman  did  not  mind  expressing  his 
own  ignorance  if  he  could  please  others.  But  the 
Renaissance  is  vastly  contrary  of  all  this.  It  is  rigid, 
cold,  inhuman,  incapable  of  glowing,  of  stooping,  of 
conceding  for  an  instant.  Whatever  excellence  it  has 
is  refined,  high-trained,  and  deeply  erudite ;  a  kind 
which  the  architect  well  knows  no  common  mind  can 
taste.  He  proclaims  it  to  us  aloud,  ‘  You  cannot 
feel  my  work  unless  you  study  Vitruvius.  I  will  give 
you  no  gay  colour,  no  pleasant  sculpture,  nothing  to 
make  you  happy,  for  I  am  a  learned  man.  All  the 
pleasure  you  can  have  in  anything  I  do,  is  in  its 


248 


ART-HINTS. 


proud  breeding,  its  rigid  formalism,  its  perfect  finish, 
its  cold  tranquillity.  I  do  not  work  for  the  vulgar, 
only  for  the  men  of  the  academy  and  the  court.’  ” 

This  is  true.  Gothic  architecture  gives  life  to  the 
heart,  it  rejoices  all  men.  Renaissance,  in  its  best 
estate,  arouses  no  emotion  beyond  intellectual  appro¬ 
bation  of  the  purity  of  its  materials,  the  beauty  of  its 
proportions,  and  the  high  finish  of  its  ornament.  In 
its  worst  estate  it  is  a  blot  upon  humanity  and  a  libel 
upon  taste.  There  is  no  fear  of  its  permanent  intro¬ 
duction  into  America.  Even  in  England,  where  it  has 
been  elevated  by  the  genius  of  Inigo  Jones,  as  we  see 
it  in  St.  Paul’s  and  Whitehall,  it  enters  as  it  were 
only  by  stealth  and  in  a  modified  form.  Venice  ex¬ 
hibits  its  purest  and  basest  features.  There  we  see 
all  that  is  admirable  in  it,  as  in  the  Casa  Grimani,  on 
the  Grand  Canal  and  the  later  portions  of  the  Ducal 
palace ;  at  Florence,  in  the  Palazzo  Pandolfini,  de¬ 
signed  by  Raphael ;  in  Paris,  by  the  edifices  con¬ 
tiguous  to  the  Palace  de  la  Concorde ;  and  in 
Rome,  by  St.  Peter’s,  the  combined  work  of  Bramante, 
Raphael,  and  Michael  Angelo.  Compare  these  build¬ 
ings,  as  wholes,  with  the  preceding  architectui'e,  and 
tell  me  which  takes  deepest  hold  on  the  mind  !  The 
Casa  Grimani,  or  the  charming  Gothic  palace  on  the 
Grand  Canal  at  Venice,  now  occupied  by  Taglioni ; 
the  canal  or  sea  faqade  of  the  Ducal  palace ;  the 
Ricardi  palace,  at  Florence,  or  the  Doria  Pamfili 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  249 

palace  at  Rome ;  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore  of  the  former 
city,  or  the  modernised  basilica  of  Santa  Maria  Mag- 
giore  of  the  latter ;  the  Siena  cathedral,  or  the 
church  of  the  Jesuits  at  Venice,  or  any  church  of 
that  order  in  any  part  of  the  world ;  the  venerable 
Lombard  church  at  Coire,  in  the  centre  of  the  Alps, 
or  Notre  Dame  de  Lorette,  at  Paris ;  in  fine,  all  the 
churches  and  palaces  built  previous  to  those  built  after 
Palladio  and  Sansovino  introduced  their  medley  of 
classicalism  and  modernism  into  architecture. 

The  fatal  influence  of  Renaissance,  which  term  I 
apply  more  particularly  to  the  revived  types  of  an¬ 
tiquity,  as  developed  by  the  rule  of  princes,  was  more 
perceptible  in  its  effects  upon  painting  and  sculpture, 
in  detail,  than  even  upon  architecture  as  a  whole. 

As  early  as  the  commencement  of  the  fifteenth  cen¬ 
tury,  Dello,  a  Florentine  artist,  acquired  much  repu¬ 
tation,  and  made  a  large  fortune  in  the  service  of  the 
King  of  Spain,  by  his  skill  in  ornamenting  houses  and 
furniture  with  subjects  from  pagan  mythology.  At  first 
their  topics  were  treated  with  a  refinement  which  aided 
their  popularity.  As  manners  grew  more  corrupt,  the 
demand  for  its  more  vulgar  types  increased,  until 
even  ordinary  nudity  and  passions  were  not  sufficient 
to  satisfy  the  morbid  appetite  which  had  arisen  for  the 
excitements  of  sense.  A  new  style  of  grotesque  was 
originated,  combining  the  grosser  forms  of  heathen 
imaginings  with  the  lewd  inventions  and  erotic  fancies 

M* 


250 


ART-HINTS. 


of  modern  dissoluteness.  One  of  the  most  prominent 
examples  of  this  species  of  ornament  is  to  he  seen  on 
the  front  of  the  palace  of  Bianca  Capello,  in  Via 
Maggio,  at  Florence.  Contrast  the  lecherous  satyrs, 
half-vegetable  Pans,  and  general  character  of  this 
fresco,  with  the  design  and  spirit  of  that  done  more 
than  a  century  previous  (1442)  on  the  Bigallo  !  There 
we  see  angels  and  holy  men  and  women,  modestly  clad, 
listening  to  “  glad  tidings  of  exceeding  great  joy.” 
With  such  facts  staring  us  in  our  face,  we  are  con¬ 
tinually  prating  about  the  progress  of  modern  times  in 
virtue.  We  have  a  great  work  on  hand  to  get  back 
in  taste  and  morality  to  even  where  Raphael  left  Art, 
after  the  allurements  of  a  sensual  court  had  done  their 
worst  on  his  mind. 

Michael  Angelo  swayed  Art  after  a  different  manner. 
His  power  lay  in  majesty  or  grandeur.  Of  color  he 
was  profoundly  ignorant,  depending  mainly  upon  ex¬ 
pression  and  design.  In  him  sculpture  and  fresco¬ 
painting  assumed  a  character  which  his  genius  alone 
could  immortalize.  He  said  himself  that  his  style 
would  create  inept  artists.  What  was  sublime  in 
Michael  Angelo  became  exaggeration  among  his  imi¬ 
tators.  Taking  him  for  a  master  in  color,  as  well  as 
design,  the  Florentine  school  that  adhered  to  him, 
such  as  Vasari  and  Bronzino,  became  vapid  in  the  one 
and  gross  in  the  other.  Their  works  have  an  anatomi 
cal  look,  as  though  difficult  posture  of  limbs  was  of 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  251 

superior  consequence  to  general  grouping  and  ease. 
Strength  became  mere  bulkiness,  vulgar  size  being 
mistaken  for  heroic  dignity,  and  awkward  action  for 
graceful  repose.  The  influence  of  Michael  Angelo  in 
painting,  I  consider  an  inauspicious  one.  With  the 
exception  of  the  dignity  and  grandeur  of  expression  and 
posture  of  certain  individual  figures,  as  in  the  sybils 
and  prophets  of  the  Sistine  Chapel,  there  is  no  indica¬ 
tion  of  profound  imaginative  power  in  his  paintings. 
The  ‘Last  Judgment’  is  but  a  powerful  condensation 
of  the  common  idea.  It  has  in  it  nothing  new,  nothing 
that  Dante,  his  favorite  poet,  had  not  much  more  for¬ 
cibly  brought  home  to  the  hearts  of  Italians  in  verse. 
The  principal  emotion  at  viewing  it  is  wonder  at  the 
extraordinary  attitudes  and  skilful  foreshortenings. 
The  Saviour  is  all  denunciation,  apparently  more 
pleased  to  send  the  condemned  to  hell  than  to  receive 
the  saved  into  heaven.  The  whole  painting  is  out  of 
harmony  with  its  spirit  and  Art  itself.  There  was  an 
impatience  about  Michael  Angelo  that  seldom  per¬ 
mitted  him  to  finish  his  own  conceptions,  and  even  more 
rarely  to  study  all  the  details  necessary  to  preserve 
their  unity.  He  was  exceedingly  great  in  parts,  hut 
the  sacrifices  in  other  respects  are  painfully  apparent. 
In  his  unfinished  sculpture  he  often  appears  greatest. 
No  artist  ever  excelled  him  in  awe  and  sublimity.  He 
was  a  great  creative  genius,  going  to  Nature,  less  to 
study  her  details  than  to  force  them  to  take  the  direc- 


252 


ART-HINTS. 


tion  of  his  will.  I  am  constantly  reminded  by  him  of 
an  intellectual  Titan,  struggling  against  the  impotency 
of  material  to  express  himself. 

It  will  not  be  worth  our  while  to  follow  the  Floren¬ 
tine  school  further,  but  to  turn  to  others  which  acquired 
equal  eminence,  some  for  one  mode  of  expression  of 
facts,  and  s8me  for  another.  Naturalism  was  the 
prevailing  study.  No  school  united  in  it  all  its  capa¬ 
cities.  A  few  artists  only  have  suggested  them. 

The  three  principal  schools  of  Italy,  beside  the 
Florentine,  were  the  Roman,  Bolognese,  and  Venetian, 
each  distinguished  by  separate  advances  in  painting. 
The  Roman  was  most  conspicuous  for  attention  to 
form,  as  derived  from  studies  of  the  antique.  Raphael 
gave  it  direction.  In  purity  and  completeness  of 
design  and  freshness  of  composition,  combined  in  one 
graceful  whole,  he  stands  pre-eminent.  His  pupils 
imitated  him  and  the  marbles  of  antiquity.  There  is 
therefore  a  greater  uniformity  of  character  in  this 
school  than  the  others,  both  in  subject  and  treatment. 
They  may  be  divided  into  the  classical  and  religious, 
the  former  preponderating.  Of  the  latter,  after  Ra¬ 
phael,  there  is  nothing  that  recalls  his  early  manner. 
As  elsewhere,  it  became  a  labor  of  the  intellect,  or  a 
trick  of  hand,  to  express  what  was  but  weakly  felt  by 
the  spirit.  Consequently  we  find  religious  Art,  though 
abundantly  practised  throughout  Italy,  divested  of 
spirituality  and  robed  in  mannerism.  Each  artist 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  253 


selected  his  subject,  not  to  exalt  piety,  but  to  display 
his  skill.  Its  essence  was  rather  from  his  imagination 
than  his  soul.  We  have  noble  religious  paintings  in 
the  sixteenth  century,  but  they  speak  louder  of  the 
artist  than  his  theme.  Occasionally  we  find  a  gleam 
of  the  old  devout  spirit  breaking  through  technical 
subtleties,  to  let  us  know  that  its  seed  still  existed  in 
man.  But,  as  almost  a  universal  rule,  among  master 
minds  their  manner,  more  than  their  story,  affects  the 
spectator.  We  admire  their  dexterity,  and  wonder  at 
their  power,  but  seldom  go  away  exalted  in  our  souls. 
This  must  ever  be  the  case  when  Science  gives  the  law 
to  Art.  Successful  technical  treatment  had  become 
the  great  aim.  The  time  formerly  given  to  prayer  or 
devout  meditation  was  now  occupied  in  measurings 
and  experiments.1  Thus,  from  one  extreme  of  spiritual 
ignorance,  religious  Art  rapidly  passed  into  another  of 
vain  knowledge,  puffed  up  with  its  manual  dexterity. 
With  inferior  minds  this  degenerated  into  imbecility 

1  Lippo  Dalmasio,  an  early  painter  of  Bologna,  noted  for  the 
sweetness  and  purity  of  the  faces  of  his  Madonnas,  never  painted 
the  Holy  Virgin  without  fasting  the  previous  evening,  and  receiving 
absolution  and  the  bread  of  angels  (the  Eucharist)  in  the  morning 
after  ;  and  finally  never  consented  to  paint  for  hire,  but  only  as  a 
means  of  devotion.  Guido  Reni  sought  the  inspiration  from  the 
works  of  this  painter  which  was  foreign  to  his  own  soul,  saying, 
that  he  “  believed  Lippo’s  pencil  had  been  moved  by  a  hidden  gift 
of  inspiration  rather  than  mere  natural  skill,  exhibiting  (as  he  did) 
in  those  pure  mirrors  of  the  ideal  a  holiness,  a  purity,  and  gravity, 
which  no  modern  artist,  however  excellent,  however  studious,  had 
ever  been  able  to  attain  to.” — See  Lord  Lindsay’s  ‘  Christian  Art,’ 
vol.  iii.,  p.  217 


254 


ART-HINTS. 


both  of  style  and  expression.  At  this  hour  there  is 
nothing  more  lamentably  contemptible  in  Italy  than 
the  puny  efforts  of  its  self-styled  artists  in  religious 
subjects.  Domenichino  and  Correggio  gave  us  at  least 
a  certain  stage-effect  of  piety ;  Guido  Reni,  Carlo 
Dolce,  and  Sassaferrato,  though  pure  naturalists,  were 
able  to  endow  their  sacred  heads  with  an  external 
glow  of  emotion ;  but  their  degenerate  descendants 
have  not  even  sufficient  skill  to  counterfeit  sentiment 
of  any  nature. 

In  color  the  Roman  school  was  dry  and  inhar¬ 
monious.  Had  Raphael  lived  there  can  be  no  doubt 
but  he  would  have  profited  from  the  Venetian  school 
in  this  respect.  That  which,  however,  was  pleasing  in 
him  became  harsh  with  his  disciples.  The  technical 
principles  of  masters  are  often  overdone  by  pupils,  as 
their  spirit  is  weakened  from  imitation.  This  was 
particularly  the  case  with  the  classical  portion  of 
the  Roman  school,  after  Raphael’s  greatest  pupil, 
Julio  Romano,  was  dead.  In  design  he  was  more 
prone  to  the  energy  of  Michael  Angelo  than  the  deli¬ 
cacy  of  his  master.  The  asperities  of  his  coloring  are 
displeasing.  With  him,  as  with  his  successors,  the 
study  of  statuary  for  form  alone  was  detrimental  to 
excellence  in  other  respects. 

Attention  to  color,  as  the  prominent  technical  ex¬ 
pression  of  Art,  was  the  characteristic  of  the  Venetian 
school.  This  was  not  at  its  zenith  of  fame  until 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  255 

Florence  and  Rome  were  retrograding.  Its  tendency 
was  towards  great  compositions,  chiefly  illustrative  of 
the  history  of  Venice  or  the  Holy  Scriptures.  We  find 
in  it  little  that  is  low  or  frivolous.  It  partook  of  the 
serious  and  luxurious  character  of  the  noble  Venetians, 
and  was  attractive  even  in  its  decadence  from  the 
warmth  and  brilliancy  of  its  tints. 

In  its  early  stage,  it  was  peculiarly  grave  and 
solemn,  both  in  color  and  composition,  and  imbued 
with  the  deep  religious  feeling  which  for  so  long  a 
period  characterised  the  Venetian  mind.  No  doubt 
the  intimate  relation  of  Venice  with  the  Orient, 
through  its  commerce,  fostered  its  love  of  splendor  and 
richness  of  detail  in  Art,  and  confirmed  the  general 
taste  for  deep,  strong  color.  The  superior  knowledge 
and  deep  feeling  of  its  artists,  gradually  led  it  from 
their  primary  harsh  and  crude  manifestations  to  the 
richest  and  most  harmonious  combinations  of  all  that 
constitutes  varied  depth,  tenderness,  brilliancy,  and 
seriousness,  both  in  painting  and  architecture,  that 
modern  civilization  has  witnessed.  Giovanni  Bellini 
was  the  most  profound  religious  artist  of  Venice.  He 
may  he  considered  as  the  true  founder  of  her  noblest 
style.  Unlike  Angelico,  he  did  not  aspire  to  portray 
pure  spirit,  but  sought  to  endow  humanity  with  its  . 
deepest  emotions,  sympathising  with  moral  beauty 
and  religious  feeling  with  all  the  earnestness  of  a 
kindred  nature.  Giorgione  and  Titian  were  his  pupils. 


256 


ART-HINTS. 


The  latter  is  the  impersonification  of  the  Venetian 
school. 

The  Bolognese  school  had  its  origin  in  the  brothers 
Ludovico,  Agostino,  and  Annibale  Carracci ;  pure  na¬ 
turalists,  who  sought  to  unite  the  strength  of  Michael 
Angelo,  the  grace  of  Raphael,  the  coloring  of  Titian, 
and  the  magic  cliiaro-oscuro  of  Correggio,  in  a  har¬ 
monious  whole,  studying  Nature  for  models,  and  em¬ 
bracing  all  subjects  in  their  range.  The  principles 
upon  which  their  academy  was  formed,  were  correct  for 
teaching  Art.  Individual  genius  was  allowed  its  bent, 
instructed  in  details,  and  encouraged  to  develop  itself. 
Rules  of  Art  as  then  understood,  were  systematised 
and  universally  applied  to  its  progress.  Bologna  stood 
high  in  painting  when  the  rest  of  Italy  had  fallen  into 
decline.  Still  this  school  is  more  remarkable  for 
technical  excellence  than  for  originality.  It  was 
capable  of  externally  perfecting  Art,  but  required  the 
genius  of  master-spirits  to  quicken  it  into  genuine  life. 
With  lesser  talents  it  degenerated  into  vapid  imitation, 
burlesquing  attainments  it  sought  to  rival. 

The  Umbrian  school,  in  its  mystic  influence  upon 
others,  bears  to  them  too  important  a  relation  to  be 
wholly  overlooked.  It  was  in  the  retired  and  moun¬ 
tainous  district  of  Umbria  that  the  purely-religious 
Art  found  its  strongest  foothold.  Among  the  simple 
and  severe  manners  which  characterised  the  inhabitants 
of  this  portion  of  Italy,  inspired  by  the  devotion  of 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  257 

St.  Francis,  and  other  enthusiasts,  Art  assumed  an 
intensely-religious  expression.  The  Umbrians  were  a 
hardy,  devotional  race,  sincere  and  self-sacrificing  in 
their  attachment  to  their  dukes  and  church.  Hence  we 
find  that  painting  here,  as  in  Venice  and  Florence, 
partook  of  the  national,  or,  more  properly  speaking, 
sectional  tone  of  mind.  It  was  expressive  of  fervid 
longings,  earnest  adoration,  simple  manners,  and  mystic 
thought ;  in  short,  excelling  in  expression  of  soul,  but 
lacking  force,  variety,  and  action.  No  sculptor  or 
engraver  arose  from  it.  Perugino  was  its  most  con¬ 
spicuous  artist,  excepting  Raphael,  who,  although  born 
in,  and  deriving  his  first  inspiration  from  it,  speedily 
emerged  into  the  wider  scale  of  naturalism  and 
classical  knowledge. 

Previous  to  the  Carracci,  the  Bolognese  school  was 
governed  by  the  same  principle  as  the  Umbrian.  It 
was  equally  devotional  in  feeling ;  and  when  we  con¬ 
sider  that  its  chief  artist,  Francia,  had  two  hundred 
and  twenty  pupils,  we  can  be  at  no  loss  to  account  for 
the  multitudes  of  religious  paintings  which  still  exist 
in  Italy,  independent  of  the  great  public  collections. 
Vitale,  who  was  of  this  school,  refused  to  paint  the 
Crucifixion,  urging  that  “  Christ  was  sufficiently  cru¬ 
cified  already ;  once  by  the  Jews,  and  daily  by  the 
evil  actions  of  wicked  Christians.” 

Montagna  was  the  most  distinguished  artist  of  the 
Mantuan  school.  Although  a  Christian  artist  in  the 


258 


ART-HINTS. 


mystic  sense  of  his  age,  yet  he  was  successful  in 
classical  subjects,  and  his  treatment  of  the  nude  figure, 
as  may  be  seen  in  his  Apollo  and  the  Muses  in  the 
Louvre ;  which,  although  highly  allegorical,  are 
original  in  treatment,  and  possess  much  grace  and 
beauty.  I;Ie^  was  succeeded  by  Julio  Romano  in  this 
school.  He  debased  its  sentiment  without  improving 
in  any  commensurate  degree  its  technical  execution. 
Moreover,  he  delighted  in  licentious  designs,  prosti¬ 
tuting  his  Art  to  illustrate  an  obscene  and  scandalous 
work  of  Aretino. 

The  pupils  of  Raphael,  and  later,  the  principles  of  the 
Carracci,  influenced  the  school  of  Naples  ;  while  that  of 
Milan  was  directed  by  the  genius  of  Leonardo  da 
Vinci. 

The  Carracci  led  the  way  to  a  genuine  love  of  land¬ 
scape.  Earnest,  industrious,  and  universal  in  their 
studies,  they  sought  to  free  this  portion  of  Nature  from 
its  merely  subordinate  position  in  Art,  and  to  elevate  it 
to  a  distinct  branch.  Previous  to  this  it  had  been 
used  simply  as  an  accessory.  Symbolism  had  given  it 
a  pure  and  sincere  ideality,  without  variety,  hinting  at 
its  elements  rather  than  expressing  them,  yet  carrying 
the  spectator  always  into  clear  skies  and  pleasant 
fields,  or  leaving  him  amidst  its  sweetest  flowers. 
There  was  always  a  congeniality  between  the  celestial 
and  earthly  simplicity  and  beauty,  which  appealed 
warmly  to  the  heart.  Titian  was  the  first  great 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  259 

natural  landscapist.  He  made  sparing  use  of  variety, 
but  his  feeling  was  true  and  his  expression  correct. 
When  we  reflect  on  what  he  suggested  of  the  great 
harmonies  of  the  natural  world,  even  in  the  secondary 
part  he  gave  to  landscape,  it  is  really  wonderful 
that  artists  did  not  see  its  value  as  an  independent 
source  of  beauty  and  instruction.  A  century  passed 
before  this  was  understood,  and  then  only  imper¬ 
fectly. 

Salvator  Rosa  seized  upon  a  few  features,  and  in  a 
half-robber,  half-artist  like  manner,  vigorously  gave 
vent  to  his  new  passion  in  a  medley  of  coarseness  and 
refinement,  truth  and  falsity,  that  alternately  perplexes 
and  pleases.  To  Claude  Lorraine  was  reserved  the 
key  of  Nature’s  loveliness  in  her  great  elements  of 
earth,  sky,  and  water.  He  introduced  the  complete, 
healthful  landscape,  striving  to  express  both  particular 
and  general  truths. 

After  him  arose  a  mock  landscape,  the  heroic,  as 
Goethe  calls  it,  as  unlike  the  real  as  it  was  cold  in 
expression.  The  Poussins  gave  the  highest  type  of 
this,  stately  and  picturesque,  studied  from  Nature,-  yet 
partaking  not  at  all  of  its  free  and  joyous  spirit. 
Their  landscapes  may  he  termed  dainty  falsehoods. 
The  eye  finds  in  them  no  repose,  but  gazes  bewildered 
at  their  artificial  beauties.  I  presume  their  failure  as 
transcripts  of  Nature  lies  in  the  feebleness  of  its  ex¬ 
pression,  in  comparison  with  the  particular  prominence 


2G0 


ART-HINTS. 


given  the  works  of  man,  not  in  keeping  with  what  the 
landscape  attempts  to  express. 

In  another  generation  pastoralism  became  the  pre¬ 
vailing  sentiment.  This  still  further  led  taste  from 
the  healthful  ideal.  Without  being  essentially  corrupt 
it  was  weak  and  silly ;  enticing  men  from  realities 
into  pursuit  of  the  incompatible,  and  disturbing  both 
natural  and  moral  harmony.  Seized  upon  as  a  new 
excitement  by  the  prurient  fancy  of  the  French  school, 
it  became  amorous  and  disgusting,  looking  to  Nature 
only  as  a  covert  for  or  excitement  to  sensuality.  Be¬ 
low  this  it  was  not  possible  for  landscape  Art  to  fall. 
This  century  has  seen  a  healthful  reaction  everywhere. 
Artists  now  seek  to  render,  at  all  events,  the  externals 
of  Nature,  and  to  give  them  to  us  pure  and  undefiled. 
A  few  are  penetrating  its  spirit  and  catching  its  in¬ 
spiration.  More  of  them  anon. 

Italian  Art  is  remarkable  for  its  absence  of  humor 
and  of  love  of  domestic  life,  two  elements  which  abound 
in  the  German  races.  It  deals  abundantly  in  high 
life,  in  its  aristocratic  forms,  in  religious  topics,  human 
passion,  and  historical  events  ;  it  is  prolific  of  classical 
knowledge  and  heathen  mythology,  but  it  has  failed  to 
give  us  a  portraiture  of  the  people.  From  it  we  gather 
nothing  of  their  hopes  and  fears,  their  struggles  and 
enjoyments,  their  actual,  every-day  existence ;  in  fact, 
it  negatives  their  being.  Caravaggio  is  perhaps  a 
solitary  instance  among  Italian  artists  of  repute  who 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  261 

has  condescended  to  recognise  the  wayward  humors 
and  fancies  of  every-day  humanity,  but  with  so  much 
coarseness  that  we  can  well  forgive  the  rarity  of  his 
pictures.  May  not  this  be  attributed  to  the  governing 
principles  of  church  and  state  which  have  so  effectually 
paralysed  the  heart  of  Italy?  Since  they  became 
despotic,  Italy  has  produced  but  one  great  mind — 
Galileo.  Him  they  fettered  and  chafed  until  he  con¬ 
sented  in  a  weak  hour  to  degrade  truth  by  its  equivocal 
denial.  Art  now  lies  hopelessly  prostrate.  A  few 
ideas  only  live  in  the  minds  of  some  who  under  better 
auspices  would  honor  Italy  and  themselves.  With  the 
mass  it  is  an  unintelligible  word.  They  have  lost 
even  the  capacity  to  comprehend  the  truths  of  those 
great  minds  who  are  their  daily  boast.  Treasures  of 
Art  incalculable  remain  in  their  keeping,  but  their  unc¬ 
tion  has  long  since  departed.  In  Florence,  the  cradle 
of  modern  Art,  annually,  within  the  very  walls  around 
which  are  hung  the  works  of  those  great  and  pious 
minds  that  first  poured  out  their  souls’  strength  to 
regenerate  Italy,  is  exhibited  a  collection  of  plaster 
and  canvas  trash  which  would  disgrace  an  auctioneer’s 
room  of  London  or  New  York.  The  Florentines  call 
this  Art,  yawn  over  it,  and  go  away  satisfied  that  they 
are  still  worthy  of  the  fame  of  their  ancestors,  and  in 
their  self-sufficiency  scorn  the  budding  genius  of  nobler 
races.  Among  Italians  generally,  painting  is  reduced 
to  a  trifling  dilettantism,  a  mere  amusement,  an  occu- 


262 


ART-HINTS. 


pation  of  otherwise  idle  hours,  or  a  simple  trade. 
Copies  (?)  of  masterpieces  are  multiplied  without  num¬ 
ber  by  men  calling  themselves  artists,  yet  content  to 
work  for  a  daily  pittance  far  beneath  the  wages  of  a 
common  laborer  in  America.  Their  pictures  go  chiefly 
to  England  and  the  United  States,  where  they  pass  as 
facsimiles  of  the  works  of  those  noble  minds  they  so 
lamentably  caricature.  Indeed  they  are  often  sold  as 
originals.  No  wonder,  then,  that  there  is  a  popular 
distaste  in  those  countries  for  the  old  masters.  Italy 
defames  her  ancestral  genius,  and  leads  astray  those 
who  seek  her  guidance.  There  is  no  cure  for  this 
except  in  the  regeneration  of  her  national  spirit.  Let 
her  cease  to  believe  in  her  own  Art-infallibility,  and  be 
emulous  only  of  rivalling  her  past  glories,  despising 
those  who  would  both  degrade  and  barter  it  away  for 
a  “  mess  of  pottage.”  Her  academies  are  crowded 
with  scholars.  Why  is  it  no  light  arises  among  them  ? 
Whence  this  universal  deadness,  where  the  Past  calls 
so  loudly  for  genuine  Effort  ?  Ask  those  tyrants 
who  quenched  her  genius  in  sensuality  and  despotism. 
It  is  time  that  the  mistaken  idea  that  the  Medici  and 
kindred  rulers  were  the  true  promoters  of  Art  should 
be  exploded.  They  were  its  destruction.  All  that 
was  noble  and  great  in  Art  had  its  origin  among  the 
people,  when  democratic  communities  and  free  cities 
emulated  each  other’s  work  and  labored  to  honor  God 
by  their  genius-directed  handicraft.  Compare  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  263 

spirit  which  led  the  citizens  of  plague-stricken  Flo¬ 
rence,  in  the  fourteenth  century,  to  employ  Orcagna 
and  spend  eighty-six  thousand  gold  florins— more  than 
four  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars,  the  offerings 
of  gratitude — in  the  erection  of  that  noble  shrine  to 
the  Virgin  which  gtill  stands  “  a  miracle  of  loveliness, 
unrivalled  in  grace  and  proportion,”  in  the  church  of 
Orsanmichele,  to  the  vanity  of  Ferdinand  I.,  in  the 
building  of  the  still-unfinished  chapel  or  monument  of 
his  race  in  the  rear  of  San  Lorenzo;  at  Florence,  on 
which  architectural  egotism  seventeen  millions  of  dol¬ 
lars  are  said  to  have  been  expended  I 

Externally  it  is  a  piece  of  unmeaning  barbarism, 
and  internally  an  empty  show  of  precious  marbles, 
savoring  only  of  aristocratic  pride  and  pompous  extra¬ 
vagance.  In  the  interior  chapel  or  actual  tomb  begun 
by  Clement  VII.,  Michael  Angelo  was  employed  to 
make  those  glorious-  statues  which  are  his  monument, 
and  not  that  of  the  family  of  the  pope  he  so  vainly 
strove  to  commemorate.  Julius  V.,  another  pontiff, 
essayed  to  divert  much  of  the  treasure  of  the  Church 
and  the  talents  of  Michael  Angelo  to  the  erection  of  a 
proud  monument  for  himself.  The  same  pope  insisted 
that  his  own  burly  figure,  in  complete  papal  costume, 
borne  on  a  canopy  upon  the  shoulders  of  men,  should 
be  introduced  into  Raphael’s  noble  fresco  in  the 
Vatican,  of  ‘  The  Angels  driving  the  sacrilegious 
Heliodorus  from  the  temple  at  Jerusalem,’  without 


264 


ART-HINTS. 


compunction  at  the  historic  anachronism  he  was  forcing 
upon  the  artist.  In  another  fresco  of  a  scene  in  the 
seventh  century  we  find  the  equally  inexplicable  por¬ 
trait  of  Leo  X.  So  in  Raphael’s  ‘  Transfiguration,’ 
the  monks  for  whom  it  was  painted  required  that  some 
of  their  order,  in  their  beggarly  apparel,  should  be 
made  to  accompany  the  Saviour  in  the  scene  of  his 
celestial  glorification.  This  vanity  is  the  ruling  spirit 
of  the  priests  and  princes  who  corrupted  Art.  It 
pervades  the  works  of  the  best  artists,  such  as  Bernini 
and  Canova,  who  owe  their  success  to  aristocratic 
patronage.  The  simplicity  of  nature  gives  way  in 
them  to  stage  effects,  and  truth  to  mere  wantonness. 

Giotto,  Ghiberti,  Brunalleschi,  Angelico,  Bartolo¬ 
meo,  Masaccio,  Raphael  Sanzio,  and  Michael  Angelo 
Buonarotti,  were  artists  of  the  people.  The  latter 
two  were  partially  employed,  it  is  true,  by  popes,  but 
it  was,  as  has  been  seen,  to  the  sacrifice  of  some 
portion  of  their  artistic  independence.  Leo  X.  com¬ 
pelled  Michael  Angelo  to  spend  the  very  best  years  of 
his  life  in  quarrying  marble,  simply  to  gratify  a  selfish 
whim. 

If  the  influence  of  courts  were  so  detrimental  to  the 
genius  of  the  greatest  artists,  what  must  it  have  been 
on  less  noble  minds  !  Vasari,  Ammanato,  and  Carlo 
Maratti  were  the  growth  of  despotism.  The  genius 
of  Benvenuto  Cellini  disdained  all  restraint  but  his 
own  daring  and  volatile  will.  His  talent  was  set 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  265 

aside,  except  as  it  forced  its  own  way,  for  more  pliant 
material.  Where  power  is  concentrated  into  the  grasp 
of  the  few,  this  principle  will  ever  rule.  The  very 
authority  they  possess  engenders  selfishness  with  all 
its  petty  or  sensual  aims.  Art  must  be  free  if  it 
would  make  progress.  It  takes  root  firmer  in  the 
hearts  of  the  many  than  in  the  tastes  of  the  few. 
Italy  proves  this  by  her  experience ;  yet  history,  as 
written,  constantly  falsifies  this  fact,  out  of  aristocratic 
contempt  for  the  people,  and  to  make  princes  believe 
that  Art  thrives  only  in  their  keeping.  Venice  longest 
preserved  the  semblance  of  republicanism.  There 
were  no  ruling  families  in  her  bosom  to  dictate,  as  in 
Florence  and  Rome,  laws  and  taste  for  the  people. 
She  was  governed  by  an  assembly  of  wills,  selfish  and 
unprincipled  it  may  be,  not  for  themselves,  but  for 
Venice.  Artists  here  were  liberally  sustained  and 
left  freedom  of  choice,  but  made  personally  respon¬ 
sible  for  the  quality  of  their  works.  This  applied 
more  particularly  to  architects.  Sansovino  was  em¬ 
ployed  to  superintend  the  construction  of  the  public 
library  erected  to  preserve  the  books  given  to  the  state 
by  Petrarch  and  Cardinal  Bessarion.  The  ceiling  of 
the  principal  hall  was  divided  into  twenty-one  com¬ 
partments,  to  be  painted  by  the  ablest  artists.  Hardly 
was  it  finished  before  it  gave  way.  Sansovino  was 
immediately  imprisoned,  fined  a  thousand  crowns,  de¬ 
prived  of  his  office  of  chief  architect,  and  finally  rein- 

N 


266 


ART-HINTS. 


stated  only  out  of  regard  to  his  great  abilities  and  the 
solicitations  of  numerous  and  influential  friends. 

Venice  not  only  exacted  much  of  artists,  but  ho¬ 
nored  them  proportionally.  A  nobler  taste  and  purer 
expression  characterized  her  style  after  Rome  and  Flo¬ 
rence  were  far  gone  in  degeneracy.  Even  Christianity 
was  here  more  honored,  if  not  in  the  heart,  in  its 
external  symbolism,  as  inherited  from  those  freer  ages 
when  it  was  the  governing  principle  of  civil  polity. 
The  practice  of  a  public  confession  of  Christianity  in 
inscriptions  on  her  architecture,  as  well  as  its  feeling 
incorporated  into  painting,  tended  to  preserve  alive 
loftier  principles  in  Art,  which  even  the  Renaissance, 
with  all  its  egotistical  appeals  to  the  meaner  qualities 
of  human  nature,  was  slow  to  overcome.  “  Non  nobis, 
Domine,  non  nobis,  sed  nomine  tuo  de  gloriam we  read 
upon  the  fagade  of  the  Palazzo  Vendromini.  This 
acknowledgment  of  religion  was  carried  into  all  their 
domestic  and  public  acts  when  the  republic  was  most 
conspicuous  for  strength  and  dignity ;  and  even  during 
the  sixteenth  century,  notwithstanding  the  prevailing 
sensuality,  their  triumphant  generals  and  crowned 
doges  were  almost  invariably  represented  in  their 
family  pictures  as  kneeling  bareheaded  before  Christ 
and  the  Virgin ;  an  act  of  adoration  first  introduced  by 
Giovanni  Bellini. 

That  pious  painter,  Gentile  da  Fabriano  was  invited 
to  Venice,  paid  a  golden  ducat  a-day,  and  permitted  to 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  267 

wear  the  costume  of  a  senator.  Gentile’s  name  was 
characteristic  of  his  works.  Ornament  he  loved  for  its 
own  sake.  He  had  a  keen  sense  of  the  beautiful,  and 
a  noble,  graceful,  joyous  nature,  which  particularly 
endeared  him  to  the  Venetians.  Some  have  called 
him  the  perfect  type  of  the  knightly,  as  Angelico  was 
of  the  devotional  artist ;  both  were  equally  pure  in 
sentiment. 

Dukes  and  popes  solicited  Sansovino  to  enter  their 
service  ;  his  reply  was,  “  that  having  the  happiness  to  livt 
under  a  republic,  it  would  be  folly  to  live  under  ar 
absolute  prince.”  Titian  was  equally  proof  against  thf 
seductions  of  royalty  to  quit  Venice ;  he  knew,  above 
all  men,  the  importance  of  entire  liberty  to  an  artist. 
The  greatest  men  of  his  age,  including  royalty  and  the 
aristocracy  of  letters,  paid  him  the  tribute  of  visits  at 
his  own  home.  Of  the  eminent  artists  of  Venice,  the 
two  Bellini  and  Tintoretto  alone  were  born  within 
her  limits.  Other  great  names,  of  which  so  many 
illustrate  her  annals,  were  attracted  thither  by  the 
superior  advantages  her  form  of  government  offered  to 
artists.  Titian  came  from  Cadore  ;  the  two  Veronese 
from  Verona;  Palma  the  elder  and  Bassano  from 
Ponte ;  Schiavoni  from  Dalmatia ;  Giorgione  and 
Paris  Bardone  from  Treviso ;  Sansovino  from  Flo¬ 
rence,  and  Palladio  from  Vicenza.  Holland,  too,  as 
a  republic,  will  be  found  no  less  favorable  for  the  de¬ 
velopment  of  Art ;  so  that  those  who  lament  over  the 


2G8 


ART-HINTS. 


inability  of  free  governments  to  foster  it,  are  in  reality 
grieving  over  a  fiction  of  their  own  minds,  while  those 
who  deny  this  truth  are  lending  their  influence  to  keep 
Art  in  bondage. 

The  artists  of  Italy  have  been  legion.  Lanzi  enu¬ 
merates  upwards  qf  three  thousand  worth  mentioning, 
between  the  years  1200  and  when  he  wrote,  1790. 
Singular  enough,  among  them  all,  there  are  but  two 
females,  Elizabeth  Sirani,  an  imitator  of  Guido,  and 
Sofonisba  Anguisicola  of  Cremona,  who  acquired  repu¬ 
tation  as  painters.  The  latter  is  known  by  a  few 
portraits  only,  which  portray  strength  of  color  and 
expression,  and  by  the  remark  of  Vandyke,  who, 
visiting  her  in  her  old  age,  at  Genoa,  said  that  he  had 
learned  from  her  conversation  more  of  his  art  than 
even  from  his  master  Rubens.  She  was  greatly  ho¬ 
nored  in  contemporary  society  of  the  highest  rank. 

Whence  arises  this  overwhelming  preponderance  of 
the  male  mind  in  the  Arts,  if  not  from  a  universal  law 
of  Nature,  which,  in  implanting  deeply  in  woman 
the  absorbing  principle  of  love,  gave  to  man  as  his 
rnoiety  of  humanity,  knowledge  !  Copyists  there  are 
in  multitudes.  A  few  artists  of  a  secondary  rank,  like 
Angelica  Kaufman,  Rosa  Bonlieur,  and  Madame  Le 
Brun,  have  distinguished  themselves  ;  but  the  world 
still  awaits  the  development  of  the  female  into  a  “great 
master  ”  of  Art. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  209 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

SCHOOLS  OF  ART — SPANISH  AND  NORTHERN  SCHOOLS — 
ART  IN  ENGLAND,  FRANCE,  AND  AMERICA. 

It  is  not  my  object  to  enter  into  the  respective  merits 
of  the  several  schools  of  Art,  but  simply  to  point  out 
their  general  differences,  and  such  analogies  as  may  be 
most  conspicuous.  The  principles  of  Art,  on  which  I 
have  already  dwelt,  will  enable  my  readers  to  classify 
for  themselves  the  degrees  of  excellence  to  which  each 
may  claim,  either  in  spirit  or  in  execution.  For  the 
latter,  however,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  personally 
to  study  the  works  of  Art,  for  no  description  can 
adequately  convey  ideas  of  the  subtleties  of  technical 
skill.  The  choice  and  general  treatment  of  subjects 
will,  however,  guide  the  mind  in  its  judgment  of  the 
actual  standard  of  the  artist  in  an  eclectic  point  of 
view. 

I  have  said  that  modern  Art  had  its  origin  in  the 
thirteenth  century,  coincident  with  the  general  and 
gradual  awakening  of  mind  throughout  Europe, 


270 


ART-HINTS. 


Previous  to  this  time,  especially  in  the  tenth  century, 
there  had  been  individual  instances  of  learning,  and 
considerable  effort  to  arouse  thought,  but  unattended 
with  any  permanent  or  universal  impression.  Where 
intellect  is  universally  active  in  the  developing  of  ideas, 
it  is  very  difficult  to  trace  the  exact  origin  of  any  one 
prominent  reform  or  improvement.  Coincident  with 
the  modern  rise  of  Art  in  Italy,  there  was  a  similar 
action  north  of  the  Alps,  possessing  the  same  general 
characteristics,  and  differing  only  in  such  features  as 
widely-separated  localities  or  contrasts  of  climates 
produce.  The  north  certainly  had  styles  of  archi¬ 
tecture  and  sculpture  peculiar  to  itself.  Her  painting 
also  bore  impress  of  another  mental  type,  though  less 
distinct  from  the  southern  than  the  former  two. 
Italy  perhaps  owes  nothing  to  Germany  in  the  spirit  of 
Art,  but  she  has  profited  somewhat  from  her  knowledge 
or  example  in  the  treatment  of  particulars  and, 
especially,  in  the  discovery  by  Van  Eyck  of  oil- 
painting,  which  at  once  commenced  a  new  era  in  that 
branch. 

Spanish  Art  remained  isolated  from  the  rest  of 
Europe,  until  the  marshals  of  Napoleon  dispersed  its 
treasures  throughout  the  civilized  world.  It  was  an 
emanation  of  Spanish  character,  deeply  imbued  with 
its  religious  tone  and  serious  mien.  Although  derived 
in  the  main  from  Italian  sources,  even  after  they  had 
become  infected  with  pagan  leaven,  yet  it  retained  in 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  271 

a  remarkable  degree  a  devotional  spirit ;  delighting  in 
traditions  of  holy  virgins  and  saints,  the  martyr-heroes 
of  Christianity,  and  rarely  condescending  to  common 
life  or  profane  subjects. 

No  nation  so  long  and  scrupulously  confined  Art  to 
purely  religious  motives.  There  were  several  causes 
thus  limiting  its  domain.  The  Spanish  character  is 
naturally  grave  and  decorous.  Its  etiquette  is  graceful 
and  solemn,  full  of  sonorous  compliments,  stately,  yet 
impressive  in  speech  and  action.  Their  religion  has 
ever  been  remarkable  for  its  enthusiastic  devotion  and 
intense  fanaticism.  Among  Romanists  they  are  con¬ 
sidered  the  most  Catholic  ;  among  Protestants,  the 
greatest  bigots  of  their  Church.  They  were  the  last  of 
Christian  nations  that  embarked  in  the  Crusades 
against  the  Moors.  Venice  for  many  centuries  at  one 
end  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  Spain,  at  the  other, 
were  the,  bulwarks  of  Christianity.  ach  had  to 

maintain  a  perpetual  struggle  with  the  infidel  for 
national  existence.  In  both,  therefore,  we  find  an 
enthusiastic  devotion  to  the  dogmas  for  which  they 
fought.  The  former  government,  however,  wisely 
tempered  its  faith  with  more  correct  principles  of 
national  policy,  maintaining  its  independence  while 
accepting  a  creed.  Not  so  Spain.  She  gave  herself  up 
body  and  soul  to  Rome,  with  all  the  fervor  of  a  race 
more  prone  to  impulse  than  reason.  Church  and  State 
in  this  country  became  united  in  an  indissoluble  league 


272 


ART-HINTS. 


for  the  selfish  maintenance  of  their  joint  rule.  No 
mind  was  left  free  either  in  thought  or  action. 
Nothing  that  in  the  most  remote  degree  could  loosen 
the  shackles  of  tyranny  or  superstition  was  allowed  to 
exist.  Consequently  Art  in  Spain  became  a  mere 
instrument  of  royalty  or  the  Church,  for  the  further¬ 
ance  of  their  aims  whether  of  pride  or  of  power.  The 
Kings  being  bigots,  the  Church  held  the  real  sway. 
The  more  firmly  to  maintain  their  rule,  by  controlling 
all  that  could  arouse  emotion  or  excite  thought,  it 
placed  Art  under  the  direction  of  the  Inquisition. 

By  nature  the  Spaniards  were  less  disposed  than  the 
Italians,  to  what  may  be  termed  the  frivolities  of  Art. 
They  were  too  dignified  to  take  pleasure  in  the 
nonsense  and  incongruities  with  which  so  many  of  the 
Italian  masters  of  the  sixteenth  century  disfigured 
their  paintings.  Even  without  the  fear  of  the  In¬ 
quisition  before  their  eyes,  we  cannot  conceive  of  them 
as  enjoying  the  introduction  of  wrangling  curs,  spitting 
cats,  beastly  monkeys,  fiddles  and  follies  of  all  sorts 
into  canvases  devoted  to  sacred  subjects.  The  censors 
of  Art  in  Spain  justly  forbade  this,  and  also  the  making 
or  exposing  of  immodest  paintings,  under  pain  of  exile, 
excommunication,  and  a  fine  of  fifteen  hundred  ducats. 
An  unfortunate  painter  was  actually  imprisoned  for 
varying  the  religious  conventional  style  of  dress  of  the 
Holy  Virgin,  by  an  embroidered  petticoat  and  fardin- 
gale,  and  putting  St.  John  in  trunk  hose. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  273 

El  Mudo,  so  called  from  being  dumb,  tbe  Spanish 
Titian,  as  his  countrymen  somewhat  ambitiously  style 
him,  made  himself  notorious,  by  venturing  to  introduce 
in  a  Eloly  Family  a  cat  and  dog  snarling  over  a  bone. 
He  never  repeated  the  offence.  It  is  generally 
believed  that  Torrigiano,  the  sculptor,  was  condemned 
to  death  by  the  Inquisition,  for  having  in  a  passion 
broken  to  pieces  a  crucifix  he  had  just  completed. 
The  popularity  of  this  anecdote,  whether  true  or  not, 
illustrates  the  severity  of  the  censorship  exercised  over 
Art  in  Spain  by  the  Church. 

The  Spaniards  being  by  temperament  more  devout 
and  enthusiastic  than  the  Italians,  were  also  less  in¬ 
tellectual  and  more  sensuous.  Consequently,  their  Art 
was  more  imbued  with  emotion  than  thought.  Indeed, 
its  chief  characteristic  may  be  said  to  have  been 
superstition.  They  carried  this  principle  farther  than 
any  other  nation.  Even  in  the  present  century  Queen 
Christina,  by  no  means  an  example  of  virtue,  in 
meeting  the  host  at  midnight  in  the  streets  of  Madrid, 
has  been  known  to  descend  from  her  carriage  in  a  ball- 
dress,  and  make  her  way  on  foot  to  her  palace, 
abandoning  her  equipage  to  the  sacred  wafer  and 
attendant  priests.  This  external  respect  had  its 
origin  in  the  fierce  bigotry  of  Philip  II.  His  suc¬ 
cessors,  however  loose  in  private  life,  conformed  to  all 
the  outward  discipline  of  the  Church.  Spain,  under 
the  fostering  care  of  royalty,  became  the  elysium  of 
monks.  Their  princely  revenues  enabled  them  to 

N* 


274 


ART-HINTS. 


patronize  as  well  as  direct  Art.  Hence  it  became 
doubly  their  servant.  Nowhere  are  sacred  images 
more  multiplied.  With  them  miracles  equally  in¬ 
creased.  The  national  feeling  delighted  in  a  faith  so 
consonant  with  its  innate  desires.  At  Rome,  scep¬ 
ticism,  worldly  aggrandisement,  classical  tastes  or 
licentious  desires,  alternately  leavened  and  perverted 
the  ecclesiastical  polity.  In  Spain,  on  the  contrary,  the 
pomp  and  luxury  of  the  papal  ritual  not  only  excelled 
those  of  all  other  countries,  but  were  joined  to  a 
uniform  severity  of  discipline  and  zeal,  which  have 
equally  distinguished  the  Spanish  Church  in  every 
age. 

In  all,  therefore,  that  the  Spaniards  undertook  in 
Art  there  entered  a  feeling,  deeper,  statelier,  and 
more  universal  than  elsewhere.  “  Let  us  build  a 
church  that  shall  cause  us  to  be  taken  for  madmen  by 
those  who  come  after  us,”  said  the  builders  of  the  rich 
and  solemn  cathedral  of  Seville,  commenced  in  1401. 
To  prove  their  sincerity,  the  prebendaries  and  canons 
for  many  years  gave  up  the  greater  part  of  their 
incomes  to  this  undertaking.  This  was  at  a  time  when 
religious  buildings  took  precedence  of  those  which 
administered  more  directly  to  the  pride  and  luxury  of 
man.  The  fruits  of  this  spirit  are  still  to  be  seen  all 
over  Spain,  and  her  possessions  in  the  new  world, 
in  stately  cathedrals  and  magnificent  abbeys,  in  the  erec¬ 
tion  of  which,  however  much  we  may  question  good 
taste,  there  can  be  none  as  to  their  spirit  and  expense. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  275 

The  intimate  connection  of  the  Spaniards  with  their 
Moslem  neighbors,  through  so  many  centuries,  greatly 
influenced  their  taste  and  habits.  Much  of  their  more 
graceful  architecture  is  directly  derived  from  the 
Moors.  So  also  the  ecclesiastical  carving  or  painted 
sculpture  peculiar  to  Spain,  colored  to  imitate  life,  bor¬ 
rows  its  design  from  the  Arabs,  who  doubtless  obtained 
their  ideas  from  the  colored  architecture  of  Egypt  and 
Nineveh.  In  this  species  of  sculpture  the  tints  were 
studied  as  on  canvas ;  distant  views  given,  the  prin¬ 
cipal  figures  being  detached  from  the  backgrounds,  real 
drapery  used ;  in  short,  the  effect  of  the  whole  was 
pictures  in  relief.1 

In  no  respect  did  Moslem  feeling  influence  the 
Spaniards  more  than  in  their  treatment  of  the  female 
sex.  If  the  natives  of  Polynesia  were  not  direct 
proofs  to  the  contrary,  one  would  be  justified  in  sup¬ 
posing  that  a  southern  climate  tends  to  arouse  jealousy 
in  men,  and  consequently  to  keep  women  in  seclusion. 
But  the  tribes  of  Polynesia  and  other  portions  of  the 
globe  most  favored  in  temperature  refute  this,  by 
making  their  hospitality  in  part  towards  strangers  to 
consist  in  proffering  them  their  wives  and  daughters. 
Therefore,  we  must  consider  the  jealousy  of  the 
Spaniards  to  be  partly  borrowed  from  the  still  more 
sensual  nations  and  sensuous  faith  with  which  they 
were  in  so  close  contact,  and  partly  the  result  of  their 

1  Stirling's  ‘  Annals  of  the  Artists  of  Spain.’  London,  1848. 


276 


ART-HINTS. 


suspicious  natures,  with  a  respect  for  chastity  based 
upon  the  superior  morality  of  Christianity  in  constant 
conflict  with  amorous  temperaments.  Thus  we  find 
that  while  Spanish  Art  abounds  in  male  portraits,  but 
few  of  women  exist.  They  were  also  too  closely 
guarded  to  be  ever  used  as  models,  as  we  find  so  many 
instances  in  Italy  among  high-born  dames.  No  Yenuses 
or  Bella  Donnas,  like  those  of  Titian,  or  Fornarinas, 
like  those  of  Raphael,  are  to  be  found  in  Spanish  Art. 
The  painting  of  the  nude  figure  was  absolutely  for¬ 
bidden  by  the  Holy  Office.  Velazquez,  at  the  request 
of  the  Duke  of  Alba,  once  attempted  a  naked  Venus ; 
but  this  is  almost  a  solitary  instance.  So  much  was 
jealousy  respected  among  this  race,  that  the  Duke  of 
Albuquerque,  feigning  ignorance  of  their  persons  at 
the  door  of  his  own  palace,  ventured  to  waylay  and 
whip  Philip  IV.,  and  his  minion,  Olivarez,  whom  he 
caueht  on  a  nocturnal  visit  to  the  Duchess. 

O 

The  character  of  Spanish  Art  is  in  general  repulsive 
to  Protestant  minds,  from  its  deep  tinge  of  bigotry 
and  fierceness.  Its  compositions  are  dark  and  grand  ; 
colors,  sombre  ;  tone,  solemn  ;  draperies,  stately  ;  and 
figures,  majestic.  In  design  it  is  deficient,  for  it  had 
but  slight  anatomical  skill,  in  consequence  of  its  neglect 
of  the  nude  figure  and  studies  from  the  antique. 
Artists  who  exposed  the  feet  of  the  Madonna  were 
censured,  although  Spanish  women  in  general  take 
particular  pains  to  display  theirs,  on  account  of  their 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  277 

beauty.  Luca  Giordana  was  employed  by  the  monks  of 
Escurial  to  lengthen  the  robe  of  Titian’s  St.  Margaret, 
because  in  slaying  the  dragon  she  exposed  too  much 
of  her  leg. 

The  habits  of  many  of  the  artists  were  almost  as 
austere  as  those  of  monks.  Luis  de  Vargas  frequently 
scourged  himself.  He  kept  a  coffin  in  his  room,  in 
which  he  frequently  lay  down  to  meditate  on  death. 
With  all  his  asceticism  he  had  a  rich  vein  of  humor.  A 
brother  painter  once  asked  his  opinion  of  a  bad  picture 
of  the  Saviour  on  the  Cross.  “  Methinks,”  said  Vargas, 
“  he  is  saying,  Forgive  them,  Lord,  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do  !” 

Vicentes  Joanes,  like  Angelico,  fasted  and  prayed, 
and  took  the  Holy  Eucharist  previous  to  commencing 
work.  Lie  was  an  artist-missionary  of  the  Church — 
grave  and  austere  in  style,  imitating  the  early  sym¬ 
bolical  manner  of  the  Florentine  school  at  a  time  when 
(1523 — 1579)  its  unction  had  long  departed  from  that 
portion  of  Italy.  I  have  not  seen  his  works,  but  they 
are  said  to  be  vigorous,  hard,  and  positive  in  color. 
His  heads  of  Christ  are  greatly  praised,  compared 
even  with  Leonardo  da  Vinci’s ;  which  may  not  be  un¬ 
likely,  if  his  feeling,  as  was  said,  was  derived  from 
those  texts  of  Scripture  which  represent  the  Saviour 
as  with  “  voice  altogether  sweet,  and  countenance 
comely,” — “  whose  banner  over  his  people  was  love.” 

Berreguette,  who  lived  between  1480  and  1561,  was 


278 


ART-HINTS. 


in  some  degree  the  Giotto  of  Spain.  He  greatly  ad¬ 
vanced  oil-painting  in  the  Peninsula,  freed  it  from 
much  of  its  previous  stiffness  of  outline,  and  proved 
himself  both  an  able  architect  and  clever  sculptor, 
inclining  somewhat  to  overcharged  anatomy,  though  his 
statues  are  considered  grand  and  noble  in  form. 

Morales  was  emphatically  a  devotional  painter,  in¬ 
clining  to  the  sorrows  of  the  soul,  particularly  of  the 
Madonna,  whom  he  successfully  represented  as  the  sor¬ 
rowing  mother,  tie  worked  in  panel,  and  bestowed 
great  labor  upon  his  pictures. 

Next  to  Murillo,  Velazquez  is  the  best  known  of 
Spanish  artists.  He  rarely  attempted  lofty  subjects, 
but  in  the  main  confined  himself  to  court  scenes,  por¬ 
traits,  sometimes  indulging  in  common  life.  His  colors 
are  dry  and  harsh,  but  he  possessed  great  and  varied 
power,  particularly  in  individualizing  character,  which 
Rubens,  his  contemporary  and  rival,  lacked. 

Ribera,  or  Spagnoletto,  by  which  term  he  is  best 
known,  is  characterised  by  a  morbid  taste  for  deli¬ 
neating  human  anguish,  not  of  the  soul  but  of  the 
body.  He  luxuriated  in  convulsed  anatomy  and 
writhing  flesh.  Among  his  favorite  subjects  are 
St.  Bartholomew  flayed  alive,  Cato  of  Utica  tearing 
out  his  own  bowels,  St.  Sebastian’s  bleeding  bosom 
bristling  with  arrows,  and  other  masterpieces  of  horror, 
heightened  by  his  own  sombre  management  of  shadow, 
from  which  the  eye  recoils  with  disgust  and  affright. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  279 

His  Ixion  on  the  wheel  so  wrought  on  the  imagination 
of  a  pregnant  woman,  that  she  gave  birth  to  an  infant 
with  hands  incurably  clenched,  as  in  the  picture.  By 
so  violently  shocking  physical  sympathies  this  other¬ 
wise  great  artist  loses  all  his  power.  I  quote  him 
as  another  most  remarkable  instance  of  moral  in¬ 
appropriateness  in  selection  and  treatment  of  sub¬ 
jects. 

Battle  scenes,  as  usually  rendered,  are  almost  equally 
repulsive,  though  physical  suffering,  being  less  directly 
and  conspicuously  individualized,  and  partially  ob¬ 
scured  by  smoke  and  dust,  less  painfully  affect  our 
feelings.  Artists,  however,  who,  like  Salvator  Rosa,  in¬ 
dulge  in  unnecessary  horror,  or  ruffianly  display  of 
mangled  limbs,  give  offence  to  humanity.  Of  this  nature 
was  the  Spaniard,  Esteban  March.  He  revelled  in  vio¬ 
lence.  Battles  were  his  pet  topics.  Furious,  reckless, 
and  eccentric,  always  delighting  in  the  coarse  and 
repulsive,  he  was  a  constant  terror  to  his  family.  In 
order  to  excite  his  imagination  to  the  due  destructive 
pitch  necessary  to  render  the  scenes  most  congenial  to 
his  character,  he  was  accustomed  to  rave  about  his 
studio  like  a  madman,  beating  a  drum,  blowing  a  trum¬ 
pet,  assaulting  the  walls  and  furniture  with  sword  and 
buckler,  and  driving  his  pupils  and  attendants  in  fright 
from  the  room.  He  was  a  rare  connoisseur  in  all  that 
was  morbid  and  disagreeable  in  the  human  physique, 
gloating  over  uncleaned  heads,  shrivelled  skins,  and 


28C 


ART-HINTS. 


the  bloodshot  eyes  and  distorted  features  of  intem¬ 
perance. 

It  is  with  pleasure  that  we  turn  from  such  examples 
as  these,  who,  in  their  best  condition,  are  a  pest  to 
noble  Art,  to  Murillo,  who  embodies  in  himself  the 
chief  excellencies  of  the  Spanish  school.  No  artist, 
particularly  in  his  latest  manner,  in  which  his  outlines 
are  as  delicately  lost  or  blended  in  light  and  shade  as 
in  Nature  itself,  has  formed  a  more  characteristic  style, 
or  is  more  readily  recognised.  Of  his  successful  and 
healthful  treatment  of  the  merely  human  Madonna,  I 
shall  speak  in  another  chapter.  Although  by  feeling  the 
painter  of  common  nature,  yet  in  compliance  with  the 
exigencies  of  religious  taste,  he  most  often  essayed 
sacred  and  even  mystical  subjects,  treating  them  with 
much  power  and  very  considerable  elevation  of  thought. 
He  repeated  oftenest  the  ‘Mystery  of  the  Immaculate 
Conception,’  if  not  fully  successful  in  spirit,  yet  with 
much  artistic  ability.  His  ‘  Guardian  Angel,’  judging 
from  the  print  in  Stirling,  is  his  happiest  effort  in  sacred 
allegory.  The  original  is  in  the  Cathedral  at  Seville. 
An  angel,  beautiful  and  spiritual  in  conception,  leads  a 
young  child — emblematic  of  the  soul’s  progress  through 
the  world — along  a  dark  and  treacherous  path,  and 
points  with  his  right  hand  encouragingly  towards 
heaven.  The  moral  is  clear  and  concisely  told.  Action 
is  in  harmony  with  the  idea,- — graceful,  yet  earnest  and 
vigorous.  The  draperies  are  particularly  fine,  not 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  281 

obtrusive,  but  simple,  chaste,  and  in  unity  with  the 
scene. 

■But  Murillo  was  more  at  home  in  the  mere  outward 
world.  His  numerous  studies  from  Nature,  sometimes 
too  coarsely  rendered,  prove  this.  But  I  have  seen 
higher  evidence  of  his  innate  sympathy  for  the  lovely 
and  joyful  in  the  natural  world,  than  those  pictures  on 
which  his  reputation  in  the  public  galleries  in  this 
respect  usually  rests,  showing  that  when  he  affection¬ 
ately  followed  the  real  bias  of  bis  nature,  he  could 
raise  himself  to  the  highest  pinnacle  of  that  branch  of 
Art. 

The  subject  is  a  beautiful  Andalusian  girl,  size  of  life, 
half-figure,  face  turned  from  the  spectator,  so  as  to  just 
disclose  the  profile,  the  left  shoulder  and  arm  being 
bare,  back  conspicuous,  but  covered  in  part  with  linen 
and  blue  and  purple  drapery,  which  hangs  negligently 
about  the  waist  from  the  right  shoulder.  The  figure 
is  one  of  about  sixteen  years,  in  that  climate,  perfect  in 
its  most  generous  and  richest  development,  graceful  in 
position,  modest  in  feeling,  and  fascinating  by  a  love¬ 
liness  that  combines  all  that  men  most  prize  in  richly- 
developed,  innocent  girlhood.  The  outlines  fall  off  im¬ 
perceptibly  into  the  atmosphere,  rounded  and  mingling 
with  the  air.  From  her  luxuriant,  brown,  wavy  hair, 
that  moves  in  the  summer’s  breeze,  flutters  a  gossamer 
iris-colored  scarf.  Her  hands  are  holding  up  a  veil, 
which  she  has  just  filled  with  luscious  grapes  from  a 


282 


ART-IIINTS. 


vine  clinging  to  a  tree  in  front.  The  distant  landscape 
is  delicately  rendered,  vaporous,  low-toned,  the  hills 
and  trees  telling  solid  against  the  sky,  which  falls  back, 
iea.ding  the  eye  well  into  space.  To  the  left,  in  front, 
are  a  cluster  of  trees,  and  on  the  ground,  pomegranates 
of  Seville,  the  most  natural  specimens  of  fruit  I  have 
ever  seen.  A  rich,  warm,  sunlight  hills  upon  the  tender 
flesh  of  the  young  girl,  which  is  full  of  quality,  cool, 
elastic,  and  pearly.  The  shadows  on  her  back  are  so 
transparent  as  to  seem  to  play  about  the  skin.  In 
richness  of  color,  harmony  of  tints,  depth,  and  natural¬ 
ness  as  a  whole,  no  other  picture  of  Murillo  that  I 
have  seen  compares  with  this,  in  those  qualities  which 
most  exalt  him  as  a  painter.  It  is  a  glorious  conception 
of  the  glowing  beauty  of  Nature  in  his  sunny  home, 
treated  from  the  heart  with  the  entire  capacity  of 
hand.1 

Landscape  was  but  slightly  cultivated  in  Spain. 
Velazquez  and  Murillo  gave  but  sketches.  Iriate 
labored  some  time  in  this  department,. but  not  enough 
to  create  an  extended  reputation. 

The  monarchs  of  Spain  spent  large  sums  amongst 
foreign  artists.  Galleries  of  Art  became  the  fashion. 
Under  Philip  IV.  Madrid  could  boast  more  and  finer 
than  any  other  city  of  Europe.  Even  now,  in  valuable 
paintings,  it  is  scarcely  second  to  none. 

1  In  a  private  collection.  Formerly  in  the  gallery  of  the  Duke 
de  Choiseul,  and  sold  thence  in  1772. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  283 

Among  the  foreign  artists  invited  to  Spain  was  Luca 
Giordana,  who  deserves  to  be  cited  as  an  instance  of 
the  deceptive  power  of  fashion  in  determining  repu¬ 
tation.  No  artist,  perhaps,  ever  so  completely  filled 
his  measure  with  contemporaneous  fame,  or  was  more 
popular  with  all  classes,  harvesting  honors  and  riches 
with  astonishing  rapidity.  Now  he  is  scarcely  known ; 
if  mentioned,  more  as  a  warning  and  an  example  of  a 
corrupted  style  and  perverted  powers  than  in  com¬ 
mendation.  His  rapidity  of  execution  was  marvellous. 
When  employed  in  the  frescoes  of  the  Escurial,  lest  he 
should  go  astray  in  his  pictorial  theology,  two  doctors 
of  divinity  were  ordered  to  wait  upon  him,  and  solve 
any  doubts  as  to  the  orthodoxy  of  his  designs.  Every 
evening  a  courier  was  despatched  to  the  king  to  report 
progress.  One  of  these  reports  reads  thus  : — “  Sire, 
your  Giordana  has  painted  this  day  about  twelve  figures 
thrice  as  large  as  life.  To  them  he  has  added  the 
powers  and  dominations,  with  the  proper  angels,  cherubs, 
seraphs,  and  clouds  to  support  the  same.  The  two 
doctors  of  the  Church  have  not  answers  ready  for  all 
his  questions,  and  their  tongues  are  too  slow  to  keep 
pace  with  the  speed  of  his  pencils.” 

Contrast  this  hasty  execution  with  Leonardo  da 
Vinci,  who  worked  four  years  on  a  portrait,  and  then 
pronounced  it  unfinished ! 

By  Germany,  I  include  the  Netherlands  and  all 
those  schools  which  grew  out  of  the  Teutonic  element 


284 


ART-HINTS. 


of  human  nature.  Unlike  the  Italian,  it  is  conspicuous 
for  its  love  of  interior  and  home  life,  partiality  for 
details  and  the  minor  distinctions  of  individuality.  It 
sympathizes  strongly  with  Nature  in  her  domesticity, 
if  I  may  be  permitted  the  term,  and  takes  strange 
delight  in  exhibiting  its  commonest  truths,  often  to 
the  destruction  of  ideal  treatment,  and  sometimes  to 
the  offence  of  refinement  and  sacrifice  of  probabilities. 
This  is  particularly  true  of  her  early  religious  Art, 
In  it  we  find  a  healthful  love  of  landscape,  fuller 
and  freer  in  its  expression  than  that  of  Italy — espe¬ 
cially  by  John  Van  Eyck — a  greater  tendency  to 
merely  common  and  unspiritualized  models  for  reli¬ 
gious  subjects,  studies,  as  it  were,  from  every-day 
people  and  fashions,  without  regard  to  historic  pro¬ 
priety.  Moreover,  there  is  a  strange  fondness  for  the 
outre  or  deformed  in  sentiment  or  person,  as  if  Art 
became  more  natural  by  being  less  true  or  beautiful. 
Holy  families  were  facsimiles  of  living  Flemings,  and 
Jewish  architecture  was  taken  from  Dutch  streets. 
The  Virgin's  wardrobe  was  brilliant  in  jewels,  rich  in 
velvets  and  brocades,  whilst  her  bed-chamber,  in 
carved  furniture  and  artistic  workmanship  generally, 
would  have  done  credit  to  a  wealthy  feudal  lord.  The 
love  or  feeling  for  such  accessories  seemed  to  be  innate 
in  the  German  mind,  and  led  their  artists  later  to 
devote  themselves  almost  exclusively  to  £t  genre  ” 
painting.  There  is  a  large  c  Descent  from  the  Cross,’ 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  285 

in  the  Louvre  by  Quentin  Matsys,  which  represents 
the  three  Maries  in  the  fashionable  attire  of  the  day, 
the  mother  of  Christ  dressed  for  a  ball,  with  jewels 
upon  her  bare  arms  and  richly-laced  gloves  upon  her 
hands,  in  overstrained  agony,  assisting  at  the  scene. 

Albert  Durer  was  deficient  in  knowledge  of  pro¬ 
portion,  adaptation,  and  perspective  ;  that  is  to  say,  he 
overlooked  their  importance  in  the  higher  truths  of 
invention  and  imagination.  He  had  a  deep,  intuitive 
sympathy  with  the  common  actual  life,  joined  to  a 
devout  spirit,  ignorant  of  or  caring  not  for  the  pagan 
lessons  of  antiquity.  Severity  and  earnestness  rather 
than  grace  or  freedom  characterize  his  style.  Sacred 
and  common  objects  are  oddly  intermingled  in  his 
work,  but  all  that  he  did  commands  respect  from  its 
sincerity  and  thought.  His  influence  is  strongly 
marked  on  German  Art,  giving  it  individuality,  not 
beautiful  but  graphic  and  forcible,  which  was  perpe¬ 
tuated  by  the  Holbeins  and  Kranach. 

Italian  classical  taste  at  this  time  made  itself  felt 
in  Germany  in  the  choice  and  treatment  of  subjects ; 
but  not  having  any  firm  natural  foundation  it  speedily 
gave  way  to  that  fondness  for  homely  individuality  and 
domesticity  which  German  Art  has  ever  since  retained. 
The  Reformation  did  not,  as  in  Puritan  England, 
quench  Art,  but  it  led  it  away,  in  a  great  degree, 
from  the  influence  of  the  imagination  into  the  more 
prosaic  and  readily-appreciated  truths  of  the  natural 


286 


ART-HINTS. 


world,  in  search  of  the  practical  and  common,  to  the 
neglect  of  the  ideal  and  theoretic.  But  great  masters 
are  more  or  less  universal  in  their  range.  Rubens, 
like  Titian,  was  an  artist  of  all  time.  He  drew  at 
will  upon  imagination,  fancy,  or  reason  ;  but  even  he, 
with  a  genius  rarely  vouchsafed  to  man,  was  unable  to 
elevate  religious  subjects  above  the  highest  effort  of 
historic  Art.  The  Bellini  mantle  of  holy  feeling  did 
not  descend  to  him.  His  Virgins  are  coarse  Flemings, 
with  complexions  that  savor  of  the  labors  of  the  wash- 
tub  ;  while  his  infant  Christs  look  like  little  boys  just 
recovering  from  the  excitement  of  a  whipping  or  a 
dose  of  gin.  In  classical  or  mythological  subjects,  and 
in  allegory,  he  was,  however,  perfectly  at  home.  Of 
his  power  over  the  natural  world  it  is  unnecessary 
further  to  speak.  Vandyke  and  Rembrandt,  differing 
widely  in  their  styles,  were  equally  incapable  of 
spiritualizing  their  religious  subjects.  Energy  arid 
truth  of  expression  were  not  wanting  in  the  latter,  but 
there  was  no  approach  to  a  spiritual  elevation  of  feel¬ 
ing.  His  idealism  depends  mainly  upon  his  subtle 
management  of  light  and  shade,  and  the  subjection  of 
his  coloring  to  the  meaning  of  his  paintings.  Violent 
action,  firm  muscles,  and  extraordinary  positions,  not 
for  human  hut  for  celestial  beings,  savoring  somewhat 
of  the  Michael-angelesque,  as  seen  in  his  Christ 
driving  the  money-changers  from  the  temple  and  in  his 
Angel  Gabriel,  test  his  artistic  ability  to  do  what  he 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  287 

pleased  with  human  forms  and  passions,  but  equally 
display  his  inability  to  express  the  purer  sentiments  ol 
the  soul.  With  others,  Yanderwerf  for  instance, 
feeling  is  lost  in  painful  labor.  The  extreme  accu¬ 
racy  of  finish  given  to  a  straw  hat  diverts  the  attention 
from  the  feeble  expression  of  the  Virgin-mother  ;  while 
the  skin  of  animals,  on  which  every  hair  may  be 
counted,  claims  equal  admiration  with  the  nicely-poised 
angels  floating  in  the  air  over  the  manger.  There  is 
feeling  in  some  of  his  pictures,  but  the  excessive  and 
equal  finish  given  to  every  portion  of  his  technical  Art 
destroys  its  moral  harmony. 

This  passion  for  imitation  of  externals,  particularly 
in  detail,  is  a  marked  feature  of  German  Art.  It 
constantly  sacrifices  soul  for  substances,  and  finds 
pleasure  in  the  most  common  objects  and  vulgar 
subjects.  Ocular  deception  with  many  of  their 
artists  appears  to  have  been  their  highest  aim.  Con¬ 
sequently,  we  have  brooms  and  pumpkins  painted  with 
faultless  accuracy,  and  scenes  of  debauchery  and 
boorish  violence,  that  are  unmistakably  true  to 
human  nature,  in  its  low  moods.  Even  animals  suffer 
at  times  at  their  hands  by  being  given  in  moments  in 
which  vulgar  necessity  temporarily  destroys  ordinary 
repose  and  delicacy.  There  is  also  manifested  a 
partiality  for  that  which  is  contrary  to  natural  beauty, 
the  deformed  in  person  or  brutal  in  mind.  In  short, 
naturalism  among  the  Teutonic  races  took  the  lowest 


288 


ART-HINTS. 


forms  of  vulgarity  and  petty  imitation,  often  even  find¬ 
ing  delight  in  slaughter  and  animal  combats.  They 
neglected  nothing  which  Nature  offered,  whether  oi 
not  compatible  with  the  true  principles  of  beauty  li 
was  far  easier  for  their  common  minds  to  indulge  their 
Art  in  those  scenes  which  constituted  their  daily  plea¬ 
sure,  than  to  soar  to  an  ideal  which  would  require  a 
sacrifice  of  sensual  pursuits. 

Amid  this  perversion  of  sympathy  for  Nature,  we 
find,  however,  much  that  is  genuine  and  wholesome, 
especially  in  out-door  life.  Paul  Brill  was  among  the 
first  to  give  variety  and  truth  to  the  landscape.  In  all, 
however,  that  the  German  school  has  done  we  find  the 
same  over-scrupulous  attention  to  facts,  by  which  the 
spirit  of  the  whole  is  weakened.  Adrian  Ostade, 
David  Teniers,  and  Paul  Potter  frequently  rise  above 
this,  and  take  us  with  them  into  in-door  domestic 
scenes  or  the  common  world  without,  in  which  every¬ 
thing  is  pleasing  and  natural,  from  its  familiarity  with 
daily  experience.  With  all  their  study  and  love  of 
the  natural  world,  even  the  Dutch,  though  living  upon 
the  sea,  have  never  succeeded  in  rendering  its  variety 
or  sublimity.  Vandevelde  is  popular,  more  from  the 
universal  failure  of  other  artists  of  Germany  than 
through  his  own  success. 

In  our  day  the  Dusseldorff  school  has  arisen  upon 
the  downfall  of  the  preceding,  but  its  aims  thus  far  are 
much  the  same,  except  that  it  aspires  to  a  higher 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  289 

standard  of  historic  art.  The  same  outside  painting 
and  fondness  for  detail  and  finish,  degenerating  fre¬ 
quently  into  mannerism,  characterize  it,  as  they  did 
its  predecessors.  Idealism  is  sacrificed  to  Rationalism. 
The  physical  truths  of  Nature  are  understood,  but  its 
feeling  overlooked  ;  secondary  are  preferred  to  pri¬ 
mary  truths ;  hence,  although  mechanical  excellence, 
particularly  in  drawing,  is  common,  the  nobler  art  of 
interesting  the  soul  and  giving  language  to  form  is 
scarcely  heeded.  We  have,  however,  a  better  choice 
of  subjects  and  greater  Art-probabilities  than  formerly  ; 
yet  those  who  paint  only  for  the  eye  can  never  expect 
permanent  success.  The  flash  of  the  false  gem 
momentarily  dazzles,  and  is  as  quickly  forgotten,  while 
the  hues  of  the  rainbow  permeate  our  hearts  because 
of  their  double  office  of  beauty  and  promise. 

Americans  in  particular  need  to  be  cautioned  against 
the  sins  of  omission  of  this  school,  because  its  best 
works  have  been  sent  to  them,  and  are  of  a  character 
to  attract  the  uncultivated  taste.  Test  their  spirit,  how¬ 
ever,  by  the  broad  principles  of  unity  and  harmony  in 
Art  as  a  whole,  and  we  shall  find  that  there  is  much 
in  them  to  condemn,  and  especially  to  avoid,  as  vio¬ 
lating  its  greatest  elements.  Where  we  should  find 
repose  or  moral  grandeur  we  are  often  shocked  with 
confused  action,  violent  contrasts,  or  exaggerated  sen¬ 
timents.  Take,  for  instance,  two  of  Leutze’s  celebrated 
paintings,  the  ‘  Storming  of  the  Teocalli  of  Mexico, 

O 


290 


ART-HINTS. 


and  4  Washington  crossing  the  Delaware.’  In  the 
first  we  have,  singularly  enough  considering  the  school, 
an  impossible  perspective  of  rude  architecture,  crowded 
with  the  horrors  of  wounds  and  slaughter,  mothers  and 
babes,  warriors  and  priests,  virgins  and  ruffians,  in  one 
repulsive  medley  of  blood,  gushing  brains,  ghastliness, 
sword-stroke,  and  lance-thrust,  while  impotent,  unarmed 
despair,  with  bare  hands  and  naked  breast,  confronts 
deadly  steel  and  sacrilegious  rapine.  Does  such  Art 
as  this  inspire  patriotism  ?  Does  it  enlist  the  sym¬ 
pathies  or  create  disgust  ?  We  have  all  that  is  hor¬ 
rible  in  battle  without  the  spirit  that  redeems  the 
struggle.  Convulsed  flesh  and  streaming  gore  are 
given  with  shuddering  fidelity,  but  the  sublimity  of 
human  strife  in  the  repose  of  anguish  too  deep  for 
utterance,  the  aroused  passions  concentrated  into  one 
desperate  coming  life-effort  for  all  that  makes  earth 
dear,  or  subdued  by  the  exhaustion  of  freedom’s  last 
futile  blow,  are  wanting.  Pictorial  is  unfortunately  as 
common  as  verbal  rant.  Exaggeration  of  physical 
action  is  mistaken  for  the  quiet  of  deep  mental  emo¬ 
tion.  Thus  in  ‘  Washington  crossing  the  Delaware,’ 
we  find  the  man  most  noted  of  all  the  world  for  se¬ 
renity  and  majesty  of  demeanor,  standing  with  scenic 
effect  in  the  stern  of  the  boat,  and  pointing  onwards 
with  all  the  declamatory  energy  of  a  stage  hero.  Such 
action  as  this  shows  that  the  artist  neither  under¬ 
stood  the  character  of  his  subject  nor  the  rules  of  high 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  291 

Art.  Contrast  with  this  picture  the  moral  dignity 
and  appropriate  action  of  Sully ’s  great  painting  of  the 
same  subject  in  the  Boston  Museum.  It  is  in  such 
differences  as  these  that  we  find  the  true  measure  of 
distinction  between  schools  and  artists. 

The  imbecility  of  mere  imitation  is  nowhere  more 
apparent  than  in  the  architecture  of  Munich,  the  mis¬ 
named  German  Athens.  Every  preceding  age  having 
created  something  for  itself  had  some  excuse  in  be¬ 
lieving  that  in  it  Art  was  exhausted.  At  all  events, 
previous  ages  have  contributed  to  its  variety.  The 
moderns  act  as  if  they  believed  there  was  nothing  left 
for  them  but  to  borrow  the  ideas  of  their  ancestors. 
Egypt  was  legitimately  proud  of  her  Art;  Greece 
found  new  and  more  beautiful  expressions ;  Rome 
added  grandeur ;  the  Lombards,  the  simplicity  and 
rudeness  of  untamed  nature ;  the  Byzantines  luxu¬ 
riated  in  Oriental  fancies ;  the  Gothic  races  in  northern 
freedom  and  quaintness ;  the  Italian  in  mediaeval 
variety  and  beauty ;  even  Renaissance  organized  new 
wholes  out  of  old  parts  ;  but  modern  architects,  as  seen 
in  Munich,  hopeless  of  their  own  genius,  beg  and 
steal  from  the  past  its  shadow  and  glory  in  their 
mistimed  labors,  as  if  they  too  had  paid  their  contri¬ 
bution  to  Art. 

Is  architecture  exhausted?  Architects  of  this 
century,  or  more  properly  builders,  for  they  create 
nothing  new,  nothing  but  what  clever  imitation  or 


292 


ART-HINTS. 


combination  can  effect,  would  seem  so  to  think.  They 
try  also  to  persuade  the  people  to  believe  in  their 
heresy.  No  principle  is  more  fatal  to  Art-progress. 
The  past  is  a  mine  from  which  we  can  draw  rich 
stores  of  experience  and  adaptation  to  our  own  wants. 
But  as  each  age  of  civilization  has  identified  itself  with 
some  advance  or  variety  in  Art,  the  present  should  aim 
at  no  less.  Munich,  however,  has  contented  itself 
with  a  series  of  architectural  shams,  classical  and 
mediaeval,  and  claims  to  be  in  consequence  the  patron 
of  Art.  In  bronze  castings  and  stained  glass  her 
progress  has  indeed  been  commendable.  A  new  race 
of  artists  has  arisen  in  the  latter  who  excel  all  that  has 
come  down  to  us  of  the  hitherto  lost  Art  of  the  middle 
ages.  Not  only  is  their  mechanical  treatment  of 
color  and  design  superior,  but  in  the  spiritual  expres¬ 
sion  of  their  subjects  they  recall  the  grace  of  Raphael 
and  the  purity  of  Angelico.  All  honor  be  to  them, 
and  to  the  royal  munificence  that  has  recreated  this 
Art  in  a  purity  and  originality  before  unknown.  But 
in  copying  the  Loggia  of  the  Piazza  del  Gran  Duca 
and  the  Pitti  palace  at  Florence,  Munich  has  shown 
as  little  skill  in  her  plagiarism  as  she  has  talent  in 
invention.  They  are  mere  parodies  on  those  noble 
edifices — feebleness  and  nudity  substituted  for  strength 
and  richness. 

From  the  failure  of  Munich  architecturally  to 
attain  the  much-coveted  external  nobility,  and  for 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  293 

which  so  much  expense  has  been  vainly  lavished,  it  is 
apparent  that  true  dignity  in  Art  is  better  found  in 
developing  new  modes  of  expression  consonant  with 
the  feeling  and  necessities  of  the  people ;  something 
•which,  being  original,  becomes  a  portion  of  their  his¬ 
tory.  Grecian  temples  have  had  no  real  success 
away  from  their  native  skies  :  so  of  other  architectural 
creations ;  if  they  are  not  in  unity  with  the  circum¬ 
stances  of  place  and  time,  they  are  of  no  more  value 
than  mere  models  or  curiosities  of  another  age.  The 
people  look  coldly  upon  them,  but  soon  identify  tlieir 
feelings  with  that  which  springs  from  and  is  adapted 
to  themselves  ;  therefore,  the  aim  of  architects  should 
be  not  to  copy,  but  to  create. 

The  English  school  has  all  the  healthful  love  of  the 
German  for  Nature  without  its  lowness.  Such  reli¬ 
gious  Art  as  it  possessed  was  extinguished  by  the 
Reformation.  Indeed,  Art  of  all  kinds  met  with  a 
narrow  escape  at  the  bands  of  the  Puritans.  Under 
more  liberal  views  of  human  nature  it  again  rose  ;  but 
it  has  ever  maintained  a  secondary  position  to  science, 
being  considered  rather  as  an  accomplishment  for  the 
cultivated  than  a  necessity  for  all  classes.  As  a 
national  passion  it  does  not  exist ;  yet,  probably,  there 
is  no  country  in  which  there  is  a  better  understanding 
of  its  principles,  as  we  see  in  Music,  by  the  few  who 
have  given  it  attention.  What  they  do,  they  do  tho¬ 
roughly  and  systematically ;  so  that  it  is  from  England. 


294 


ART-HINTS. 


that  the  world  of  late  has  received  the  soundest  criti¬ 
cisms  on  Art.  With  all  this,  however,  there  is  much  that 
is  false  in  public  taste,  and  but  little  that  is  really  good 
or  original  in  their  modern  architecture.  This  arises 
from  the  wrong  direction  given  by  professional  men  to 
Art-studies.  Instead  of  stimulating  English  thought 
to  trust  in  itself,  it  has  taught  it  to  put  its  faith  in  the 
creations  of  other  countries  ;  the  result  has  been  much 
copying  and  corresponding  bad  taste.  Mind,  however, 
in  England,  is  beginning  to  throw  off  this  thraldom. 
Evidences  of  a  new  era  in  Art  are  apparent.  Those 
sound  elements  of  British  character  which  lie  at  the 
bottom  of  its  common  life  in  its  deeper  meaning,  the 
fruition  of  which  is  in  English  homes,  and  its  pleasure 
in  a  sympathy  with  external  Nature  in  her  healthiest 
action  and  formations,  are  now  beginning  to  stimulate 
Art  to  their  real  expression  ;  hence  landscape,  do¬ 
mestic  life,  and  national  humor,  have  all  found  able 
artists  to  express  their  vivifying  truths.  An  attempt 
to  revive  symbolical  Art  has  been  made,  but  this  can 
live  only  under  the  devotional  forms  of  pure  Romanism. 
English  Art  as  yet  has  not  essayed  to  rival  Italy  in  its 
loftiest  expressions  ;  there  is  a  moral,  notwithstanding, 
in  its  common  form,  and  but  few  men,  if  any,  have 
been  found  willing  to  violate  the  wholesome  natural 
instincts  of  the  nation,  as  manifested  in  feeling  for 
animals,  manly  exercises,  and  ordinary  humanity.  The 
morbid  perversities  and  low  debaucheries  of  the  Dutch, 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  295 

or  the  selfishness  and  sensualities  of  the  later  Italian 
schools,  would  find  no  sympathy  in  England  ;  neither 
would  their  early  religious  Art,  except  intellectually, 
by  the  appreciating  few,  for  the  taint  of  Romanism  is 
indelibly  associated  with  it  in  the  Protestant  mind. 
Instead  of  the  grotesque,  we  find  humor  and  caricature, 
the  play-elements  of  reason  more  especially,  than  of 
the  imagination. 

The  sensual  age  of  English  painting  in  the  reign  of 
Charles  II.  was  an  influx  from  the  French  school ; 
libidinous  in  spirit,  it  manifested  itself  chiefly  in  female 
portraiture,  feeble  in  color,  with  a  uniform  expression 
of  refined  .voluptuousness,  and  one  common  type  of 
physical  beauty.  Since  that  time  portraiture  has  been 
a  favorite  branch  among  the  English ;  but,  unlike  the 
Venetian  school,  it  has  produced  little  that  is  serious 
and  noble.  With  much  that  is  excellent  in  technical 
management,  the  prevailing  features  are  aristocratic 
pride  and  the  vanities  of  fashion  ;  an  exhibition  of 
titles  or  mere  animal  beauty,  decorations,  external 
glitter,  and  pompous  self-satisfaction.  In  gazing  upon 
British  portraits,  we  are  more  reminded  of  the  position 
than  of  mind.  They  reveal  the  weakest  part  of  the 
national  character,  instead  of  giving  the  noblest  ele¬ 
ments — the  Englishman  in  all  his  cold  self-sufficiency, 
but  not  his  innate  manliness  and  sincerity.  It  would 
seem  from  his  portrait,  that  he  prized  the  false  or  acci¬ 
dental  more  than  the  true  and  permanent ;  or,  perhaps, 


296 


ART-HINTS. 


lie  prefers  to  keep  the  inner  man  from  the  knowledge 
of  the  world,  reserving  for  ks  gaze  only  immobility  of 
features  and  outward  distinctions  of  rank.  Beside 
Titian’s  heads,  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence’s  are  but  as 
mere  substance  to  spirit  ;  the  one  is  the  ideality  of 
intellect,  the  other  the  exaggeration  of  garb  and 
skin. 

The  English  school  owes  much  to  the  appreciation  of 
its  greatest  masters  for  the  truths  of  color.  Gains¬ 
borough  and  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  labored  to  introduce 
into  England  the  Venetian  feeling.  In  their  own 
works  their  success  was  eminent.  With  the  former,  it 
was  joined  to  an  appreciation  of  the  harmonies  of 
Nature,  and  a  delicate  sense  of  her  entire  loveliness, 
which  made  him  England’s  purest  painter,  and,  if  we 
except  the  peculiar  excellence  of  Turner  in  his  won¬ 
derful  rendering  of  variety,  her  greatest  landscapist. 
He  embodies  the  highest  elements  of  the  English  mind, 
in  its  sincere  love  for  the  broad,  visible  facts  and  prin¬ 
ciples  of  Nature.  Color  was  to  him  a  gift,  heaven-born  ; 
what  to  others  was  labor,  was  in  him  intuition,  as  is 
music  to  many  uncultivated  minds.  The  connection 
between  a  natural  feeling  for  music  and  color  is 
worthy  of  note  as  proving  their  common  laws  of  har¬ 
mony.  Titian,  Giorgione,  Bassano,  Correggio,  Leo¬ 
nardo  da  Vinci,  and  Tintoretto  were  remarkable  for 
their  love  and  knowledge  of  music.  It  is  said  of 
Gainsborough,  that  he  sometimes  recompensed,  mu- 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  297 

sicians  who  had  given  him  moments  of  rapturous 
pleasure  with  his  finest  landscapes. 

Art,  in  a  political  sense,  is  freer  in  England  than 
elsewhere  in  Europe.  All  tastes  find  scope  and 
support;  theories  and  arguments  are  favorably  re¬ 
ceived;  sound  principles  encouraged,  and  Servile 
imitation  of  other  schools,  though  to  some  extent  prac¬ 
tised,  condemned.  Yet,  with  all  this,  painting  has 
retrograded  in  the  present  century  since  the  death  of 
Gainsborough,  and  is  now,  with  few  exceptions,  im¬ 
mersed  in  one  common  lifeless  style,  in  which  techni¬ 
calities  overpower  spirit,  and  both  savor  strongly  of 
academic  teaching,  temporary  fashion,  or  the  patronage 
of  mere  rank-  or  wealth,  to  the  neglect  of  the  nobler 
inspirations  of  Nature.  Subjects,  also,  are  confined  in 
variety,  and  treated  with  much  sameness  ;  as  a  whole, 
however,  there  is  more  freedom,  with  a  purer  love  of 
Nature,  than  on  the  Continent.  We  have  much  to 
hope  for  from  the  English  mind. 

Between  France  and  England  the  contrasts  are  most 
striking  in  Art  and  Taste.  The  French  school  has 
been  influenced,  to  a  certain  extent,  by  the  Italian  ; 
but  to  no  good  purpose.  Whatever  it  has  borrowed 
from  abroad,  it  has  so  imbued  with  its  own  vain  treat¬ 
ment  as  to  leave  scarcely  a  trace  of  the  original  thought. 
In  the  reign  of  Francis  I.,  all  of  its  best  Art  was  from 
Italy ;  later  it  went  to  the  same  source,  which  was 
itself  corrupted,  and  therefore,  worked  only  evil  on  an 

Q* 


298 


ART-HINTS. 


ungenial  soil  like  that  of  France.  The  effect  of  the 
Renaissance  on  the  French  artistic  mind,  from  the 
direction  given  it  by  Louis  XIV.,  has  already  been 
described.  Religious  Art  after  that  period,  in  archi¬ 
tecture,  sculpture,  and  painting,  was  equally  false  ;  a 
caricature  and  mockery  of  all  spiritual  truth.  Holy 
Virgins  of  this  time  are  pious  grisettes,  and  penitent 
Magdalens,  grand  ladies  seized  with  temporary  re¬ 
morse.  It  is  useless  to  refer  to  French  religious  or 
symbolical  Art,  except  to  point  out  its  utter  failure. 
Artists,  in  general,  looked  upon  the  soul  simply  as  a 
curious  phenomenon  from  which  some  additional  variety 
of  expression  might  be  drawn  to  grace  their  work  and 
display  their  skill.  Dead  to  all  spiritual  feeling  them¬ 
selves,  their  reason  should  have  enlightened  them  as  to 
the  fallacy  of  undertaking  what  alone  heaven-directed 
truth  could  express.  The  few  who  possessed  right 
impulses  lost  them  amid  misdirected  technical  methods 
of  treatment. 

Evidence  of  a  wholesome  sympathy  with  Nature  and 
common  life  is  almost  equally  rare.  The  Poussins 
and  Claude  Lorraine,  though  horn  Frenchmen,  were 
more  of  Italy  than  France  ;  Nicholo  wras  labored  and 
superficial ;  Caspar  felt  Nature,  gave  some  of  her 
truths,  but  would  not  wholly  raise  himself  above  the 
academic  tendency  of  his  age  ;  Claude  alone  saw  into 
her  heart ;  hut  even  he  w'as  unable  wholly  to  free  him¬ 
self  from  the  mongrel  pastoralism  and  classicalism 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  299 

which  then  perverted  public  taste.  The  French  are 
eager  to  claim  these  artists  as  of  their  schools ;  Rome 
was,  however,  their  home  and  inspiration.  Admitting 
them  as  Frenchmen,  and  allowing  them  all  the  merit 
their  most  enthusiastic  admirers  can  claim  for  them, 
their  names  alone  will  not  save  the  French  school  from 
condemnation  as  unnatural  and  pernicious.  Joseph 
Vernet  had  a  genuine  feeling  for  Nature,  drew  well 
and  forcibly,  but  lacked  the  gift  of  color.  Those 
artists  who,  like  Greuze  and  Callot,  attempt  humanity 
in  its  ordinary  sentiments  or  passions,  are  more  skilful 
in  rendering  the  action  than  emotion.  We  read  the 
moral  from  the  outside,  with  greater  probabilities  of 
being  pained  by  overstrained  external  representation, 
than  edified  by  inward  truths. 

To  my  mind  the  French  school  throughout  combines 
more  that  is  false  with  less  that  is  correct,  than  all 
others.  In  truths  of  color  it  is  behind  them  all ;  accu¬ 
racy  of  design  is  its  chief  merit ;  the  most  prominent 
faults  are  vanity  and  exaggeration.  There  is  nothing 
of  that  wholesome  love  of  Nature,  eschewing  low  life, 
but  delighting  in  virtuous  common,  with  humor  and 
meaning  in  all  that  it  attempts,  which  belongs  to  the 
English  school ;  on  the  contrary  it  revels  in  vulgar 
wit,  affects  painful  and  startling  contrasts,  has  no  nice 
moral  discrimination,  is  not  wise  in  its  subjects,  neither 
displays  unity  in  composition,  but  is  perpetually  roving 
for  new  and  extraordinary  modes  of  design,  seeking 


300 


ART-HINTS. 


more  to  amuse  the  vulgar  than  to  please  the  wise.  All 
its  power  for  any  purpose  lies  in  external  action  and 
glitter.  It  has  no  soul. 

Aristocratic  selfishness,  as  embodied  by  Louis  XIV. ; 
regal  sensuality,  as  in  Louis  XV.  ;  and  the  reaction  of 
democratic  passion,  as  seen  in  the  first  Revolution, 
mingled  with  priestly  hypocrisy  and  sceptical  levity, 
the  persecutions  of  royal  bigotry  and  the  virulence  of 
popular  revenge,  a  jest  of  Voltaire  more  powerful  than 
a  principle  of  truth,  in  short,  God  dethroned  and  Sense 
worshipped, — all  this  was  the  worst  possible  training 
both  for  Art  and  Taste.  To  look  for  excellence  amid 
such  a  moral  chaos,  where  truth  was  the  sport  of  cir¬ 
cumstance,  would  be  as  hopeless  as  to  search  for  the 
cool  repose  of  a  Swiss  valley  with  its  murmuring 
waters,  in  the  hot  wastes  of  Sahara,  where  the  simoom 
each  instant  threatens  suffocation, 

Rejecting  Christianity  as  a  puerile  fable,  the  artists 
of  France,  during  the  Revolution,  looked  to  classical 
history  as  their  fountain  of  ideality.  Their  style, 
therefore,  became  imitative ;  a  mere  revivifying  of 
pagan  thought,  degenerating  in  most  cases  into  stage 
trickeries.  In  consequence  there  arose  a  taste  for  the 
nude,  and  for  expression  in  form  or  attitude,  taking  its 
hints  from  antique  sculpture,  to  the  neglect  of  the 
more  general  truths  of  painting.  David’s  pictures 
recall  the  uplifting  of  a  stage-curtain  when  the  whole 
company  are  assembled  in  one  tableau.  The  sole 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  301 

admiration  demanded  is  for  postures  and  scenic  acces¬ 
sories. 

The  most  famous  specimens  of  French  paintings 
assembled  in  the  Louvre  are  remarkable  alike  for 
their  violation  of  the  unities  of  Nature  and  Art.  Take 
the  ‘  Wreck  of  the  Medusa,’  for  instance,  a  subject  of 
unqualified  physical  agony,  death  in  its  slowest  and 
most  appalling  forms,  frenzy  and  despair,  without  one 
redeeming  moral  feature  to  give  hope  or  repose  to  the 
spectator.  The  artist  has  indeed  been  successful  in 
showing  all  the  animal  horrors  of  starvation,  in  a 
degree  which  beggars  description.  But  what  good 
end  is  answered  by  such  a  representation  ?  The  nar¬ 
rative  is  one  unmitigated  recital  of  improvidence  and 
madness.  In  the  painting,  the  solitude  and  sublimity 
of  the  ocean  is  unfelt,  because  nearly  all  the  horizon  is 
lost  in  one  upright  glutinous  mass  of  something  which 
the  artist  intended  for  a  wave,  hut  which  it  no  more 
resembles  in  form  or  color  than  it  does  rock.  Viscid, 
and  lacking  transparency,  if  it  had  been  a  little  darker 
it  might  have  passed  for  a  lava-stream  suddenly  ar¬ 
rested  and  cooled  as  it  was  about  to  overwhelm  an 
impediment  in  its  path. 

Girodet’s  picture  of  the  ‘  Deluge  ’  is  another  and  still 
worse  specimen,  if  such  he  possible,  of  exaggeration 
and  accumulation  of  external  horrors,  to  the  destruc¬ 
tion  of  correct  feeling.  The  two  male  figures  are 
simply  anatomical  curiosities.  Physical  effort  in  over- 


302 


ART-HINTS. 


strained  muscles,  forcibly-expressed  joints  and  strongly 
articulated  bones,  recall  more  effectively  the  dissecting- 
room,  than  studies  from  the  entire  human  figure,  in  its 
ideal  beauty.  In  the  celebrated  charger,  by  Geri- 
cault,  with  its  hussar  rider,  in  the  same  hall,  a  similar 
delight  in  exaggeration  is  visible,  as  is  equally  in 
‘Napoleon  crossing  the  Alps.’  Both  riders  and  horses 
are  placed  in  impossible  positions,  out  of  unity  with 
the  landscape,  and  in  violation  of  all  moral  proba¬ 
bilities.  Napoleon  abstracted  in  thought,  bending 
over  the  neck  of  his  mule,  unconsciously  hugging 
closer  his  cloak  as  the  chill  wind  sweeps  down  from 
the  icy  peaks  above  him,  is  true  to  nature,  and  affects 
us  correspondingly.  Turn  him  into  a  ranting  hero  on 
a  prancing  horse,  fiercely  galloping  over  a  road  which 
admits  only  of  the  laborious  climbing  of  a  donkey, 
and  he  becomes  ridiculous.  Art  has  power  to  exalt 
the  meanest  or  degrade  the  noblest  subject.  The 
French  school  is  conspicuous  for  the  latter,  throughout 
its  entire  range  of  treatment  no  less  than  in  its  selec¬ 
tion.  With  it  Art  has  never  been  placed  upon  its 
legitimate  footing  of  teacher  and  representative  of 
beauty.  It  has  been  kept  either  in  the  bondage  of 
sense,  or  viewed  as  a  means  of  intellectual  excitement, 
much  upon  the  par  of  amusement,  to  which  the  national 
mind  is  so  strongly  directed  that  it  becomes  a  serious 
care.  Consequently  every  stimulating  novelty  and  new 
emotion,  without  regard  to  truth  or  moral  consequences, 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  303 

are  hailed  with  all  the  avidity  of  minds  palled  by  com¬ 
monplace  pleasure.  This  has  a  most  disastrous  result 
on  Art,  from  urging  its  professors  to  strive  after  mo¬ 
mentary  effects  instead  of  permanent  truths.  Hence 
it  partakes  so  largely  of  artifice  indulging  in  show, 
and  straining  after  scenic  representations.  Of  late, 
however,  there  are  more  healthful  symptoms,  particu¬ 
larly  in  its  direction  towards  the  natural  world.  Rosa 
Bonheur  is  the  Landseer  of  France,  and,  woman  though 
she  is,  goes  into  the  pure  open  air  and  looks  for  studies 
for  her  pencil  amid  the  animal  kingdom,  in  healthful 
repose  or  action.  Calame,  also,  with  a  broader  love 
for  nature,  and  an  imagination  that  gives  tongue  to 
its  solitudes  and  joy  to  its  springing  waters  and 
forest  shades,  is  doing  much  to  renovate  the  national 
taste. 

But  the  task  is  seemingly  hopeless  in  face  of  popular 
opinion,  systematically  led  astray  by  the  government 
for  centuries,  and  now  chiefly  directed  to  the  painful 
excitements  of  fields  of  slaughter,  made  vivid  by  the 
glowing  pencil  of  a  Horace  Vernet,  under  the  specious 
pretence  of  consecrating  Art  to  patriotism.  No  good 
to  humanity  can  come  from  such  lessons.  Truth,  too, 
is  violated.  The  French  are  taught  to  believe  that 
war  is  the  noblest  occupation  of  man,  and  that  their 
arms  are  ever  victorious.  The  moral  -of  a  Waterloo 
or  a  Blenheim  never  reaches  their  eyes.  The  Nile 
and  Trafalgar  would  lapse  into  historical  myths  if 


304 


ART-HINTS. 


their  remembrance  depended  upon  French  historical 
Art.  Its  vice  lies  principally  in  its  misdirection ;  the 
fostering  of  national  vanity  and  a  warlike  spirit  instead 
of  the  ennobling  of  individual  sacrifice,  the  blessings  of 
peace,  and  the  progress  of  truth. 

The  United  States  of  America  have  not  yet  esta¬ 
blished  their  claim  to  a  school  of  Art.  For  nearly  two 
centuries  the  combined  influence  of  Puritanism  and  the 
doctrines  of  William  Penn  have  caused  the  public 
mind  to  look  with  doubt  upon  whatever  savored  of 
sensuous  beauty.  The  energies  of  a  new  country 
must,  also,  be  given  for  a  long  period  to  the  absolute 
necessities  of  existence.  In  America,  however,  a 
lustrum  equals  in  progress  a  quarter  of  a  century  in 
Europe.  A  feeling  for  Art  is  rapidly  developing. 
Architecture,  though  in  the  main  borrowed  from  Euro¬ 
pean  types,  is  freeing  itself  from  old  forms  and  adapt¬ 
ing  itself  to  the  spirit  of  a  new  race.  In  rural  buildings 
this  is  particularly  evident.  The  noble  spirit  of  emu¬ 
lation  and  appreciation  of  Art  which  led  to  the  erection 
of  the  mediaeval  edifices  of  Europe,  delighting  in  orna¬ 
ment  for  its  own  truths  of  beauty  and  suggestion, 
looking  to  utility  in  a  secondary  sense,  is  still  unknown. 
Rivalry  there  is,  but  unfortunately  its  direction  is 
towards  personal  show,  the  indulgence  of  vanity,  and  a 
display  of  the  superfluities  of  luxury,  instead  of  being 
diverted  into  the  wholesome  channels  of  great  public 
works,  which  would  stamp  a  character  of  thought  and 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  305 

enterprise  upon  our  age.  Ye?  we  struggle  onward 
towards  a  correct  feeling  for  Art.  The  desire  for 
something  beyond  abstract  utility  and  mere  sensuous 
excitement  is  being  felt.  We  are  emerging  from  the 
fog  of  sense  and  opening  our  eyes  upon  the  world  of 
Art-beauty,  astonished  at  its  capacity  to  elevate  and 
refine.  The  variety,  purity,  and  spirituality  which  it 
unfolds,  are  no  less  wonderful  to  Americans,  who,  for 
the  first  time,  are  enabled  to  indulge  in  Europe  those 
undefined  longings  of  the  imagination,  which  made  their 
spirits  chafe  beneath  the  pressure  of  calculating  utili¬ 
tarianism  and  selfish  enterprise  at  home.  I  do  not 
intend  to  disparage  the  motives  which  have  led  Ame¬ 
rica  so  rapidly  into  civilization  and  power.  They  are 
the  first  great  principles  of  social  progress.  But  they 
are  not  enough  of  themselves.  Something  more  is 
necessary  to  complete  the  circle  of  human  existence. 
This  we  find  only  in  spirit ;  the  loftiest  human  faculty 
by  which  man  feels  Beauty  and  takes  its  truths  to  his 
soul.  I  ask  every  cultivated  American  what  are  his 
sensations  as  those  treasures  of  Art,  in  which  Europe 
abounds,  for  the  first  time  open  upon  his  intellectual 
vision  ?  Does  he  not  feel  the  same  sense  of  expansive 
joy, — a  new  truth  springing  up  within  him,  something 
which  exalts  him  inwardly  and  perfects  his  humanity 
by  gratifying  innate  but  heretofore  inexpressible  long¬ 
ings, — which  the  dweller  amid  crowded  streets  feels, 
when  he  also  for  the  first  time  rambles  forth  into  the 


306 


ART-HINTS. 


country,  breathes  the  fresh  air,  and  gazes  upon  the 
wondrous  variety  of  nature  ? 

Americans  wrong  their  own  capacities  for  happiness 
by  not  robbing  action  of  sufficient  time  to  think  and 
feel.  Enjoyment  to  be  complete  must  be  universal  in 
its  exercise  of  the  mind.  There  should  be  no  cramp¬ 
ing  of  one  soul-feature  to  the  expansion  of  another, 
but  all  should  have  equal  scope  for  healthful  exercise. 
Sense,  by  which  I  mean  the  substratum  of  humanity, 
must  be  under  the  guidance  of  reason,  and  both  in 
equipoise  with  spirit,  to  establish  the  harmony  of  man. 
We  elevate  our  standard  of  action  and  thought  in  the 
degree  that  we  seek  after  the  ideal,  which,  aspiring 
constantly  to  perfection,  equally  attracts  man  onward 
to  his  origin  and  ultimate  destination  in  Divinity.  In 
no  way  therefore  can  artists  more  benefit  their  fellow- 
men  than  by  devoting  genius  to  the  giving  of  those 
truths  of  nature,  which,  by  promoting  progress  towards 
the  Ideal,  connect  man  more  closely  with  his  Maker. 

American  Art  happily  thus  far  is  sincere  and  earnest 
in  its  aspirations.  In  no  other  nation  have  there  been 
manifested  sounder  principles  of  range  and  selection ; 
consequently  its  start  is  auspicious.  We  notice  par¬ 
ticularly  the  same  love  for  the  natural  world  and 
domestic  life  which  characterizes  the  English  school, 
but  fuller  and  freer  in  its  expression  with  us,  from  our 
more  intimate  intercourse  with  a  virgin  Nature  and 
new  scenes  of  beauty.  In  the  higher  branches  of  Art, 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  307 

history,  portraiture,  in  fact  through  the  entire  whole¬ 
some  scope  of  naturalism,  including  also  its  spiritual 
expression,  devoid  of  the  pagan  leaven,  American 
artists  are  cautiously  but  surely  advancing  in  paint¬ 
ing.  Great  masters  we  have  not  yet  produced,  but 
respectable  talents  are  paving  the  way  to  a  lofty 
destiny.  The  genius  of  an  Allston  would  have  dis¬ 
tinguished  even  the  old  world.  The  hope  of  an 
American  school  of  painting  lies  thus  far  in  the  free¬ 
dom  and  purity  of  its  thought.  To  preserve  these 
elements  intact,  great  caution  is  necessary  in  inter¬ 
course  with  the  degenerated  schools  of  Europe.  From 
all  perhaps  some  advances  in  technical  skill,  and  the 
development  of  the  mere  science  of  the  Art,  may  be 
obtained.  But  so  far  as  my  own  observation  extends, 
only  the  best  minds  can  go  through  their  ordeal  of 
show,  fashion,  and  mannerism,  unscathed.  Weaker 
intellects  lose  the  freshness,  energy,  and  pure  tastes 
which  were  their  attributes  in  America,  and  adopting 
the  degeneracy  of  European  Art,  become  crude  imita¬ 
tors  of  academic  styles  or  plagiarists  of  olden  thought. 
There  is  no  fear  of  failure  in  American  Art  on  the 
side  of  scientific  knowledge.  It  will  invent,  improve, 
and  cheapen  material,  to  an  extent  as  yet  unknown. 
Fettered  by  no  technical  systems,  free  from  the  bond¬ 
age  of  schools,  it  has  no  restraint  upon  its  mechanical 
development,  and  everything  to  hope  for  in  its  thought- 
progress,  from  the  untiring  activity  and  daring  vigor 


308 


ART-HINTS. 


of  mind  wholly  free  to  act  and  think,  and  incessantly 
stimulated  by  the  pecuniary  as  well  as  the  intellectual 
success  that  attends  all  legitimate  enterprise  in  America 
But  when  the  public  are  deluded,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  Washington  monument  at  the  national  capital, 
into  the  expenditure  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dol¬ 
lars  to  perpetuate  a  violation  of  the  first  principles  of 
Art,  it  is  time  that  the  indignant  protest  of  good  taste 
should  be  heard  all  over  the  land,  to  spare  it  a  dis¬ 
grace  as  lasting  as  the  firm  material  of  which  the 
monument  is  being  constructed.  A  simple  obelisk,  as 
an  expression  of  aspiring  thought,  is  well  enough ;  but 
to  surround  its  base  with  Grecian  architecture,  detracts 
from  the  dignity  of  the  one  and  ruins  the  beauty  of  the 
other.  Neither  is  in  keeping  with  the  character  of 
Washington.  Independent  of  the  object  of  the  monu¬ 
ment,  the  nation,  if  it  be  completed  according  to  its 
present  design,  will  be  in  possession  of  the  tallest  shaft 
in  existence,  rising  from  out  of  a  forest  of  Lilliputian 
columns — I  speak  in  a  comparative  sense — much  the 
same  as  a  handle  is  stuck  within  the  broom  at  its  base. 
The  sole  idea  in  its  erection  appears  to  be  to  build 
something  kiglier  than  any  one  else  has  ever  built. 
Much  good  may  this  thought  do  us !  Our  children 
will  be  glad,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  to  pay  a  million  of 
money  to  pitch  the  monstrosity  into  the  ocean.  On  a 
par  with  the  idea  of  this  monument,  is  the  jugglery  of 
balancing  a  bronze  horse  on  his  hind  legs  without  the 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  309 

aid  of  his  tail.  By  such  nonsense  as- this  the  people 
are  taught  to  look  upon  Art  as  a  means  of  testing 
mechanical  skill,  without  higher  aim  than  mere  ma¬ 
nagement  of  material.  Such  failures  are,  however, 
useful  in  one  sense.  They  are  so  conspicuous,  when 
tried  by  the  principles  of  high  Art,  that  the  nation  will 
never  be  duped  into  their  repetition.  In  the  age  that 
tolerated  them  will  remain  the  exclusive  right  of  pro¬ 
perty. 

Sculpture,  as  confined  to  the  human  figure,  is  on  a 
respectable  footing  in  America.  No  great  artist^  have 
as  yet  been  developed,  but  clever  men  are  leading  the 
way  to  a  revival  in  this  branch  of  Art,  by  the  infusion 
of  new  beauty  and  greater  truth  of  finish  that  promises 
much  for  the  future.  The  first  step,  and  one  for  which 
Europe  may  be  said  to  be  wholly  indebted  to  America, 
is  the  important  advance  made  in  busts.  Powers  was 
the  first  American  to  unite  in  marble  portraiture  per¬ 
fection  of  finish  with  a  happy  expression  of  character. 
Others,  following  in  his  path,  have  since  equalled  and 
perhaps  occasionally  excelled  him.  So  distinguished 
have  the  American  sculptors  become  in  bust-making, 
that  it  is  universally  conceded  that  they  have  created  a 
new  era  in  this  respect.  In  statuary,  however,  the 
success  has  been  less  complete.  No  great  ^deas  have 
yet  been  born.  Some  single  truths  of  expression  or 
pretty  fancies  have  been  put  into  marble,  but,  thus  far, 
its  success  has  been  confined  to  clever  imitation  of  the 


310 


ART- HINTS. 


antique  or  living  models,  in  parts  or  whole,  in  new  com¬ 
binations  not  always  the  happiest  in  ideas  or  loftiest  in 
expression,  but  indicating  a  budding  national  genius 
in  sculpture,  oerhaps  somewhat  too  self-confident  for 
its  own  good. 

The  failures  of  America,  and  indeed,  of  Art  gene¬ 
rally,  arise  chiefly  from  commencing  at  the  wrong 
end.  Instead  of  first  studying  the  great  principles  of 
Nature,  upon  which  all  Art  is  founded,  and  working 
from  them  outwardly ,  artists  too  commonly  are  led  by 
their  .blind  impulses ;  and  looking  first  to  external 
expression,  begin  on  the  outside  of  Art,  applying  to  it 
.  primarily  the  technical  rules  of  material  excellence ; 
as  it  were,  building  their  house  before  they  knew  what 
kind  of  spirit  is  to  occupy  it.  This  is  working  in  the 
dark.  The  meaning  of  the  work  must  first  be  con¬ 
sidered  and  the  general  laws  of  its  expression.  Atten¬ 
tion  should  be  paid  to  detail  and  finish,  only  as 
secondary  to  the  great  idea.  Criticism  also  should  be 
governed  by  the  same  rules,  first  seeking  for  correct 
feeling,  evidences  of  spirit  and  thought,  then  looking 
at  details  to  see  if  they  are  sufficiently  in  harmony  to 
create  a  complete  whole.  Generally  we  find  that  the 
eye  seizes  upon  some  inferior  part,  or  mere  trick  or 
dexterity  „of  Art,  and  either  condemns  or  praises  that. 
There  is  no  surer  evidence  of  want  of  sound  taste  in 
both  the  spectators  and  artist.  Great  thought  and 
pure  feeling  intuitively  seek  their  like  ;  common  ideas 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  311 

and  false  sympathies  as  invariably  seek  companion¬ 
ship  in  their  affinities.  The  artist,  therefore,,  can 
always  test  himself  in  the  spectator,  supposing  intel¬ 
lectual  cultivation  or  native  feeling  to  be  equal  on 
both  sides.  His  universality  lies  in  having  something 
to  say  to  all  men. 


312 


ART-HINTS. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

ART  IN  RELATION  TO  PATRONAGE, 

I  use  the  name  Patronage,  in  this  connection,  to  express 
whatever  directly  or  indirectly  fosters  Art.  To  sup¬ 
pose  that  money  alone  is  the  medium  by  which  genius 
can  be  encouraged  to  labor  is  an  injurious  supposition. 
The  true  artist  requires  no  such  stimulus.  He  asks 
simply  for  the  means  of  support  and  progress,  looking 
to  the  nobler  sentiment  of  living  in  the  hearts  of  men 
through  all  time  by  his  works,  instead  of  amassing  the 
riches  of  Mammon  in  his  own  generation.  Avarice 
has  injured  some  otherwise  great  names ;  but  to  the 
honor  of  artists,  be  it  said,  this  vice  is  not  common 
among  them.  Some  would  prefer,  with  their  Greek 
brother  of  old,  to  give  rather  than  to  barter  away  their 
works  ;  not,  however,  from  the  vain  spirit  that  actuated 
Zeuxis,  but  from  an  honorable  repugnance  to  ex¬ 
change  their  soul-thoughts  for  coin,  as  if  mind  and 
work  into  which  they  have  garnered  their  affections 
were  mere  merchandize.  We  can  no  more  pay  for 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  313 

high  Art  than  we  can  buy  a  glorious  sunset.  Both 
are  gifts  from  Divinity,  to  which  our  homage  only  is 
due.  To  weigh  the  thought  of  Shakspeare  in  gold,  if 
we  could,  would  be  sacrilege.  Do  we  estimate  the 
emotions  which  thrill  our  hearts  from  music,  poetry, 
and  any  of  the  lofty  forms  of  Art,  by  the  amount  of 
money  which  the  opportunity  of  communion  with  them 
costs  us?  The  moment  that  monetary  calculations 
solely  influence  Art,  its  spirit  is  lowered  and  a  portion 
of  its  freedom  lost.  Art,  like  the  soul,  is  priceless. 
The  artist  or  individual,  therefore,  who  estimates  it 
only  from  its  marketable  value,  viewing  it  simply  as  a 
source  of  gain,  or  in  the  degree  of  its  cost,  has  no 
true  feeling.  Yet,  as  money  is  the  medium  of 
exchange,  the  prices  given  for  a  noble  work  are  an 
indication  of  the  estimate  in  which  it  is  held.  Con¬ 
sequently,  we  find  that  for  masterpieces  nations  enter 
into  rivalry,  limited  only  in  their  determination  to 
possess  them,  not  by  any  estimate  of  their  pecuniary 
value,  but  by  their  own  resources.  Let  no  one,  there¬ 
fore,  deem  it  folly  for  a  people  to  buy  at  the  ransom 
of  princes,  or  the  cost  of  war-ships,  the  works  of 
mighty  minds.  In  doing  this  they  are  but  laying  up 
treasures  of  knowledge  and  feeling  for  themselves, 
besides  paying  a  tribute  to  heaven-lent  genius.  We 
pay  roundly  to  protect  our  bodies ;  why  not  equally  to 
instruct  our  souls  ? 

Utilitarianism  falls  intp  another -egregious  error  both 

P 


314 


ART-HINTS. 


for  the  artist  and  spectator  in  considering  Art  as  mere 
pastime.  If  this  were  true,  it  would  he  right  to  cal¬ 
culate  its  cost,  as  for  any  other  amusement.  I  have 
said  enough  in  preceding  chapters  to  show  that  its 
highest  office  is  to  teach.  As  we  advance  in  great 
truths  on  earth  we  are  in  an  equal  degree  prepared 
for  our  heavenly  career.  Lucre  is  a  profitless  exchange 
for  a  soul.  Therefore,  if  we  stint  our  spirit  to  fill  our 
purse,  we  have  been  no  wiser  than  the  drowning  man 
who  grasps  still  closer  the  treasure  which  carries  him 
but  the  more  rapidly  to  the  bottom. 

Art  is  no  pretty  pastime  for  the  artist ;  no  trifling 
occupation  to  grace  idle  hours.  Far  from  this.  It  is 
his  serious  duty ,  the  life-work  to  which  his  soul-energies 
should  be  bent  for  his  own  good  and  that  of  his  fellow- 
men,  if  he  would  escape  the  reproach  of  buried  talents. 
God  requires  account  of  the  least  of  His  gifts.  How 
much  more,  then,  of  His  greatest!  Is  it  a  pastime 
to  serve  the  Almighty?  Yet  silly  minds  prate  about 
the  pleasure  of  being  an  artist  as  they  would  of  being 
a  bird.  To  them  he  has  but  to  expand  his  wings  and 
soar  over  creation  with  as  little  sense  of  labor  as  the 
feathered  tribes  manifest  in  instinctive  obedience  to 
their  natures.  I  shall  never  forget  the  indignation 
which  burst  from  the  lips  of  the  truest-hearted  artist  I 
ever  met,  as  a  lady-trifler,  in  praising  a  work  which 
had  cost  him  years  of  the  deepest  study  and  incessant 
application,  remarked,  “  what  an  agreeable  pastime  it 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  315 

must  be  for  him.”  She  could  see  only  in  his  picture 
the  facility  of  execution,  and  not  the  intensity  of 
thought. 

As  money  is  necessary  for  the  creation  of  Art,  men 
should  give  it  freely,  but  judiciously.  Genius  thrives 
best  when  no  pecuniary  cares  disturb  its  aspirations. 
Indifferent  to  outward  existence,  we  often  see  it  as  it 
were  without  worldly  prudence,  dependent  upon  other 
minds  for  those  attentions  to  the  common  necessities 
of  life,  to  which  it  is  itself  oblivious.  I  would  say, 
therefore,  that  you  cannot  bestow  too  much  upon  real 
genius.  Gold  to  it,  like  the  refreshing  shower  to  the 
earth,  is  sure  to  be  returned  through  a  thousand  fruc¬ 
tifying  channels. 

On  the  other  hand,  nothing  is  more  mischievous  to 
Art  than,  from  erroneous  kindness  or  taste,  buying  the 
works  of  those  who  take  to  it  from  other  motives  than 
sincere  love.  Every  other  occupation  has  its  basis  in 
utility.  Inferiority  in  the  quality  of  manufacture 
does  not  diminish  materially  the  value  of  an  article  in 
point  of  use,  provided  that  object  is  kept  strictly  in 
view.  Consequently  we  get  what  we  pay  for,  so  far 
as  use  is  concerned,  but  not,  perhaps,  in  regard  to 
excellence  of  workmanship.  Disappointment  in  this 
respect  does  not  mislead  the  mind  or  corrupt  the 
heart ;  it  simply  offends  our  taste  in  its  most  super¬ 
ficial  sense.  Far  otherwise  is  it,  however,  with  Art 
when  we  derive  it  from  impure  or  insincere  sources. 


316 


ART-HINTS. 


Its  mission  is  too  sacred  to  be  the  sport  of  triflers  or 
tampered  with  by  ignorance.  Many  self-styled  artists 
are  confirmed  in  their  mistaken  profession,  to  the  detri¬ 
ment  of  Art  and  corruption  of  good  taste,  simply 
because  their  friends,  from  equally  mistaken  motives, 
encourage  them  in  a  career  for  which  Nature  has  not 
qualified  them,  to  the  loss,  also,  of  some  industry  to 
which  they  are  especially  adapted.  Hence  too  much 
caution  cannot  be  used  in  purchases.  Temporary 
kindness  to  the  individual  may  prove  a  permanent 
injury  to  the  public.  Art,  properly,  knows  neither 
nation  nor  person.  Like  Beauty,  it  is  universal,  with 
principles  derived  not  from  the  institutions  of  men,  but 
the  works  of  God.  Criticism,  therefore,  be  it  expressed 
verbally  or  by  purchase,  should  look  exclusively  to  Art 
and  ignore  the  artist.  By  this  means  only  can  we 
keep  taste  unsullied  by  motives  foreign  to  its  abstract 
rules.  Yet  I  would  not  have  the  eye  accustom  itself 
too  freely  to  seek  for  defects  in  preference  to  merits. 
Better  for  the  soul’s  good  to  perceive  only  beauties 
than  to  detect  solely  the  bad.  The  Thebans  carried 
the  impersonality  of  Art  so  far  as  to  fine  the  artist 
who  made  a  bad  portrait,  on  the  ground,  I  presume, 
of  its  being  doubly  libellous.  A  law  good  in  theory, 
but  in  modern  times  efficacious  only  through  the  abso¬ 
lute  rejection  by  the  public  of  every  object  of  Art  not 
manifesting  sincerity  of  purpose  and  progressive  excel¬ 
lence. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  317 

We  now  come  to  consider  in  whose  hands  and  by 
what  methods  of  study  Art  best  thrives.  There  is  no 
way  more  sure  to  elevate  it  to  its  just  position  than  by 
enlightening  public  opinion.  Freedom  is  the  primary 
condition  of  all  progress.  When  princes  and  priests 
have  had  the  control  of  Art,  we  have  seen  that  it  has 
been  either  perverted,  as  by  the  Medici  and  Bourbons, 
to  selfish  and  sensual  ends,  profaned,  as  by  contempo¬ 
raneous  popes,  or  destroyed,  as  by  the  Puritan  icono¬ 
clasts  of  England.  Flence  we  may  infer  that  Art  is 
not  safe  in  the  hands  of,  exclusively,  either  princely  or 
priestly  influence.  Its  only  true  foundation  is  in  the 
hearts  of  the  people.  With  the  few,  bad  taste  or 
corruption,  leaven  all  they  touch ;  they  have  the  effect 
of  concentrated  poisons.  Among  the  many,  they  are 
lost  or  neutralised  by  liberty  of  choice,  freedom  of 
criticism,  and  the  influence  of  pure,  unvitiated  love  of 
the  natural  and  wholesome.  Such  is  the  case  in 
England  and  the  United  States,  where,  it  is  true, 
ignorance  and  prejudice  obtain  to  a  lamentable  extent 
in  the  popular  mind ;  but  at  the  same  time  there  is  a 
continually  reacting,  regenerating  spirit,  proceeding 
from  cultivated  intellect  and  native  refinement  of  feel¬ 
ing,  which,  having  an  unlimited  scope  of  action,  is  ever 
on  the  alert  to  elevate  and  purify  public  taste. 

It  is  a  mistake,  also,  to  believe  that  aristocratic  rule 
is  more  favourable  to  expenditure  for  the  promotion 
of  Art  than  democratic  government.  In  its  first  effect 


318 


ART-HINTS. 


it  perhaps  is,  from  the  fact  that  the  dominant  few 
centre  in  themselves  the  power,  taste,  and  wealth  of 
the  abject  many.  The  more  democratic  the  govern¬ 
ment  the  more  does  it  reflect  the  opinions  of  the  people. 
In  France  we  see  Art — partaking,  it  is  true,  too  much 
of  the  character  of  amusement — liberally  provided  for 
the  nation,  because  a  government  which  did  not  recog¬ 
nise  the  wants  of  the  populace,  could  not  exist  an  hour. 
An  emperor  controls  their  license,  but  he  bends  to 
their  lawful  claims.  In  Russia,  and  all  absolute 
countries,  we  find  that  the  masses  have  no  voice  in 
Art.  Even  in  its  early  home,  Italy,  the  people,  since 
civil  freedom  expired,  have  no  influence  whatever  upon 
its  expression.  They  are  required  to  be  content  with 
whatever  their  rulers  see  fit  to  give  them.  Any  freedom 
of  choice  is  repressed  as  a  political  heresy.  Hence 
Art  under  all  such  sways  is  but  an  instrument  for  con¬ 
firming  power  or  exhibiting  its  vanity  and  pride.  The 
appreciation  of  the  people  is  confined  to  the  will  of 
their  rulers,  and  rare  indeed  is  the  exception  in  which 
Art  is  permitted  its  full,  unbiassed  expression. 

Among  popular  governments  such  a  condition  can¬ 
not  exist.  The  Mind  being  free  impresses  Art  to 
essay  its  universal  range.  There  is  nothing  that  is 
human  or  natural,  but  in  some  degree  or  other  finds 
affinity  in  the  popular  taste.  Consequently  Art  is 
taken  to  their  homes,  and  seeks  shelter  by  their  fire¬ 
sides.  From  the  palace  it  descends  to  the  humble 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  319 

hearth,  and  thus  becomes  an  ingredient  of  common 
life,  influencing  taste  and  advancing  national  refine¬ 
ment.  The  same  causes  which  welcome  it  into  indi¬ 
vidual  hearts  give  also  the  means  of  its  pecuniary 
promotion,  so  that  it  will  be  found  that  far  greater 
sums  in  the  aggregate  are  expended  for  Art  in  England 
and  the  United  States  by  free  citizens  than  elsewhere 
by  despotic  governments,  though  from  the  fact  of  the 
concentration  of  its  objects  by  the  latter,  they  may 
make  a  greater  display  than  the  former.  From  posi¬ 
tion,  also,  absolute  rulers  are  more  liable  to  fraud  and 
imposition.  Being  but  individuals,  with  but  limited 
opportunities  for  forming  a  correct  task  in  comparison 
with  free  citizens  of  equal  cultivation  in  other  respects, 
but  without  the  trammels  of  state  and  its  corrupting 
influences,  they  are  quite  as  often  conspicuous  for  their 
failures  as  for  their  success,  when  they  aspire  to  direct 
Art.  This  is  emphatically  true  of  the  gallery  of 
modern  pictures  at  Munich,  under  the  direction  of  the 
king,  who  has  expended  vast  sums  on  German  artists 
under  the  narrowing  influences  of  patriotism  in  Art, 
by  which  he  has  collected  numerous  pictures  of  the 
most  indifferent  character.  They  are,  with  but  few 
exceptions,  of  no  merit  whatever,  and  calculated 
to  repel  a  cultivated  or  to  mislead  an  untutored  mind. 

The  old  Roman  patricians  bought  artists  as  they 
would  cattle,  and  compelled  them  to  labor  in  accord¬ 
ance  with  their  tastes  or  whims.  Modern  patricians 


320 


ART-HINTS. 


buy  artists  through  their  necessities,  and  put  upon 
their  necks  the  galling  yoke  of  Fashion.  The  noble 
few,  whom  circumstance  or  want  cannot  bend,  trusting 
to  what  is  true  in  the  people  to  eventually  respond  to 
what  is  true  in  themselves,  abide  by  the  only  sure 
anchor  of  success.  Sooner  or  later,  an  appreciating 
public  hail  them  as  their  Art-prophets,  martyred 
though  they  may  have  been  by  neglect  and  censure 
during  their  early  lives.  Be  comforted,  silent  ones ! 
Labor  in  hope !  Sell  not  your  birthright  as  did  the 
hungry  Esau  !  The  time  will  arrive  when  you  will 
assume  your  true  position  on  a  foundation  all  the 
firmer  for  being  slowly  built.  Indeed,  the  number  of 
genuine  artists  who  have  not  attained  both  fame  and 
fortune  during  their  natural  lives  is  very  small. 
Titian  was  recompensed  to  his  utmost  wishes ;  Raphael 
had  the  retinue  of  a  prince :  other  examples  might  be 
quoted  from  past  history,  but  in  our  own  times  it  is 
difficult  to  point  out  an  artist  who  deserves  the  slightest 
encouragement,  who  has  not  met  with  as  much  success 
as  men  of  other  liberal  professions.  Even  the  unsocial 
and  eccentric  Turner  died  leaving  more  than  half  a 
million  of  dollars,  solely  the  fruit  of  his  pencil.  A 
picture  by  Murillo  has  been  within  three  years  sold  for 
one  hundred  and  twenty-six  thousand  dollars  ;  Claude’s 
paintings  also,  for  ten,  twenty,  and  even  fifty  thousand 
dollars,  and  those  of  other  artists  for  sums  corre¬ 
sponding  to  their  reputations,  while  there  are  some 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  321 

pictures,  of  which  the  idea  of  computing  their  pecu¬ 
niary  value  never  arises.  They  may  be  considered  the 
property  of  the  world.  All  this  shows  that  genuine 
Ari:  is  speedily  consecrated  in  public  opinion,  and  put 
above  all  scale  of  calculation  as  to  price. 

The  rule  therefore  to  govern  the  pecuniary  patron¬ 
age  of  Art  is  briefly  this  :  allow  of  no  motive  foreign 
to  its  intrinsic  excellence  to  affect  choice. 

Academies  are  of  some  service  in  affording  means 
for  the  prosecution  of  certain  branches  of  study,  and 
for  the  collection  and  exhibition  of  models.  They 
should  be  used,  however,  sparingly  and  only  secondary 
to  Nature.  She  is  the  great  teacher,  the  true  source  of 
knowledge,  expanding  the  soul  in  proportion  as  she 
elevates  the  intellect.  Great  artists  have  never  been 
the  product  of  academies.  They  have  grown  up,  as 
it  were,  in  defiance  of  them,  setting  aside  their  methods 
and  attending  to  the  truth  that  was  in  themselves. 
The  true  artist  is  independent  of  locality  or  circum- 
stances.  His  mission  is  too  deeply  implanted  in  him 
by  his  Maker  for  him  to  escape  its  fulfilment.  It 
is  an  absurdity  to  talk  about  undeveloped  genius. 
Where  genius  exists,  it  lifts  its  possessor  at  once  above 
the  level  of  his  fellow-beings.  When  it  does  not 
exist,  no  academic  teachings  can  create  it.  On  the 
contrary,  they  foster  sterility  and  weakness,  by  teaching 
reliance  on  technical  rules,  and  encouraging  many 
to  proceed  in  a  career  of  impotence. 


P 


ART-HINTS. 


322 

Money  may  stimulate  talent  in  some  cases,  but  as  a 
general  rule,  it  is  its  death.  The  direct  patronage  ot 
public  bodies  seldom  produces  useful  results  in  the 
formation  of  artists.  This  is  particularly  apparent  in 
the  productions  of  the  pupils  of  the  Academy  of  Fine 
Arts  at  Paris.  Its  walls  are  hung  around  with 
paintings  of  one  general  character,  artificial  and  spirit¬ 
less,  as  if  forced  into  existence  from  uncongenial  soils. 
Those  of  1820,  however,  in  color  and  feeling,  are 
superior  to  those  previous  or  later.  The  copies  of  old 
masters  would  not  pass  muster  in  even  a  Florentine 
picture-shop.  Better  than  the  best  of  them  can  be 
manufactured  in  Italy,  at  the  rate  of  fifty  cents  per 
day’s  work.  We  are  not,  therefore,  to  look  to  the 
influence  of  academies  or  paid  salaries  for  the  spread 
of  Art.  Better  by  far  were  they  all  abolished,  and 
pupils  left  to  the  corrective  influences  of  an  independent, 
unorganised  public  taste,  and  the  teachings  of  artists 
formed  in  the  schools  of  Nature.  In  one  respect 
aristocracies  have  been  of  service  to  Art.  They  have 
collected  and  preserved  its  objects  in  public  museums, 
when  otherwise  they  might  have  perished.  To  them 
we  owe  the  best  galleries  of  Europe.  There  has 
never  been,  before  the  United  States  of  America,  a 
republic  commensurate  in  dignity  and  power  with  the 
old  monarchies  of  Europe.  What  the  people  may  do 
in  this  matter  remains  to  be  seen.  Among  themselves 
they  possess  more  objects  of  Art  than  the  masses  under 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  323 

despotic  rule.  This  results  from  their  superior  means 
and  cultivation.  I  believe  also  that  great  public 
collections  will  be  formed  by  individual  exertions,  and 
that  in  time  America  will  rival  the  old  world  in  its 
Art-treasures. 

Europe  does  not  maintain  sufficiently  the  distinction 
between  a  gallery  and  a  museum  of  Art.  The  latter, 
as  in  the  Louvre,  should  embrace  everything  good  or 
bad  which  illustrates  its  history.  The  former  should 
be  confined  to  choice  specimens  of  the  best  masters  in 
their  different  styles  and  of  all  ages,  so  that  the 
spectator  should  see  nothing  but  what  is  excellent  in 
subject  and  treatment.  A  few  good  pictures  are  far 
more  effective  than  a  myriad  collected  solely  in 
reference  to  number.  There  are  upwards  of  one 
thousand  in  the  Dresden  gallery.  Two  hundred 
culled  from  out  this  mass  would  constitute  a  far  more 
interesting  and  instructive  gallery.  The  mind  then 
would  not  be  distracted  and  lose  half  its  time  in  simply 
rejecting,  or  perhaps,  misled  by  trash,  overlook  those 
of  importance.  I  believe  that  Art  would  actually  be 
benefited,  if  one-half  the  gallery  pictures  were  burnt ; 
but  as  that  would  savor  of  Vandalism,  it  would  be 
better  to  put  aside  the  inferior  into  museums  open  to 
those  who  wish  to  study  the  progress  and  spirit  of  Art, 
in  different  generations  or  masters,  reserving  for  public 
eye  only  those  that  instruct  or  exalt  popular  taste. 
A  few,  also,  have  a  better  opportunity  for  being  rightly 


324 


ART-HINTS. 


placed,  and  therefore  appreciated  according  to  the 
intent  of  the  artist,  than  when  there  are  a  great 
number.  No  gallery  in  Europe  attracts  more  at¬ 
tention  and  gives  more  satisfaction  than  the  Pitti  at 
Florence,  yet  in  num  ers  it  is  one  of  the  smallest.  So 
of  the  Lichtenstein  gallery  at  Vienna,  which  never 
exhausts;  but  the  body  and  mind  weary  over  the  in¬ 
terminable  ranges  of  the  Louvre. 

Another  reform  is  equally  needed.  Most  of  the 
public  galleries  of  Europe — the  National  Gallery  in 
London  being  a  wholesome  exception  —  are  turned 
into  picture-shops,  where  not  only  the  vilest  trash  is 
openly  displayed  for  sale,  but  the  best  pictures  so 
blocked  up  by  scaffoldings  and  easels  as  to  be  almost 
lost  to  the  spectator.  This  is  particularly  the  case  at 
Milan  and  Paris.  If  the  world  be  content  to  accept 
the  shadow  for  the  substance,  give  it,  at  all  events, 
certain  days  of  the  week  when  it  may  gaze  upon  the 
originals  without  encountering  the  above-named  nui¬ 
sances.  Perhaps  in  that  way  taste  may  be  led  to 
protest  against  the  imposition  of  charlatan  copyists ; 
and  finally,  by  disdaining  their  stuff,  put  an  end  to  a 
race,  out  of  which  nothing  but  eventual  disappointment 
can  come,  and  who  are  at  all  times  a  disgrace  to  the 
Art  they  so  wantonly  libel.  Some  respect  should  be 
paid  to  the  old  masters  themselves.  Why  should  they 
be  daily  and  hourly  caricatured  and  turned  into 
ridicule  for  those  who  may  never  see  them  face  to  face  ? 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  FAINTING.  325 

Would  that  Rembrandt  could  come  down  from  his 
frame  and  drive  these  modern  money-changers  from 
the  temple  of  Art,  with  the  same  vigor  of  stroke  with 
which  he  represented  Christ  as  punishing  the  sacri¬ 
legious  wretches  who  profaned  his  temple  ! 

Modern  Art  owes,  at  the  least,  respect  to  its  prede¬ 
cessors  ; — something  more  than  mere  houseroom  and 
bright  frames.  The  spirit  of  the  past  should  be  spared 
profanation,  and  allowed  to  beam  upon  us  in  all  its  pri¬ 
mitive  purity  and  majesty.  The  same  sacred  care  that 
the  French  government  shows  in  restoring  and  protecting 
its  architectural  monuments  should  be  extended  to 
painting.  It  should  not  be  permitted  to  he  the  sport 
of  imbecility.  Before  any  one  is  allowed  to  copy,  let 
him  first  exhibit  proof  of  being  an  artist.  This  may 
seem  a  harsh  rule,  but  its  benefits  would  be  threefold. 
Not  only  would  the  old  masters  be  protected  in  their 
reputations,  by  confining  copies  to  able  hands,  but  the 
race  of  self-sufficient  artists  and  picture-jobbers  be  ex¬ 
pelled  from  galleries,  and  driven  to  the  more  wholesome 
fields  of  Nature,  where  alone  can  they  hope,  if  aught 
there  be  of  truth  within  them,  to  expand  themselves 
into  anything  better  than  plagiarists,  or  imitators 
of  greatness  which  their  souls  cannot  comprehend,  and 
their  pencils  much  less  reach.  A  few  genuine  struggles 
with  Nature  and  reading  of  her  lessons  would  be  worth 
far  more  to  ordinary  minds  than  the  range  of  whole 
galleries.  When  they  have  learned  the  rudiments  of 


326 


ART-HINTS. 


their  Art,  then  may  they  hope  in  time,  and  with  due 
humility  and  patience,  finally  to  arrive  at  the  under¬ 
standing  and  appreciation  of  those  principles  which  the 
Art-masters  of  all  ages  have  spent  their  lives  in  ac¬ 
quiring.  This  done,  they  will  he  the  last  to  pour  con¬ 
tempt  upon  the  soul-language  of  others,  and  fritter 
away  their  own  thought  and  labor  by  a  feeble  mimickry, 
which  but  confirms  the  evil  and  weakness  of  their  own 
natures.  They  will  approach  great  minds  reverently, 
as  men  who  have  travelled  before  them  the  same  long 
road  on  which  they  walk.  Thus  will  they  finally  arrive 
at  the  goal  which  is  their  aim.  Then  will  they  have  a 
legitimate  claim  to  test  their  own  progress  by  an  attempt 
to  rival  the  excellence  which  fires  their  own  ambition. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  327 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

ART  VIEWED  IN  RELATION  TO  ARTISTS,  CHIEFLY  IN 
RELIGIOUS  EXPRESSION. 

No  one  artist  has  ever  united  in  himself  the  entire 
capacity  of  the  particular  branch  of  Art  to  which  his 
genius  has  led  him.  Some,  like  Leonardo  da  Vinci, 
Raphael,  and  Titian,  have  been  successful  over  so  wide 
a  range  of  subjects,  or  have  attained  so  high  a  degree 
of  excellence  in  style,  as  to  merit,  in  comparison  with 
other  minds,  being  considered  as  complete  artists,  less, 
perhaps,  from  what  they  have  actually  produced  in  any 
one  whole,  than  from  the  variety  and  degrees  of  their 
powers.  Leonardo  was  the  first  to  suggest  anything 
like  complete  satisfaction  in  Art.  This  arose  not  so 
much  from  any  one  work, — -though  his  4  Last  Supper,’ 
and  cartoon  of  the  4  Struggle  for  the  Standard,’  made 
in  rivalry  with  Michael  Angelo’s  4  Soldiers  Bathing,’ 
might  be  considered  perfect  in  their  kind,-— as  from  his 
great  and  versatile  talents.  These  works  satisfy  science 
and  feeling,  at  least  so  far  as  can  now  be  judged.  No 


328 


ART-HINTS. 


artist  more  cleverly  united  knowledge  with  genius.  He 
was  alike  remarkable  for  gifts  of  mind  and  body.  Well 
formed,  handsome  in  features,  strong  in  limb,  accom¬ 
plished  in  all  manly  exercises,  skilled  in  the  sciences, 
of  indefatigable  industry,  he  was  at  once  sculptor, 
painter,  author,  engineer,  architect,  musician,  and  poet. 
He  was  also  a  good  anatomist  and  mechanic,  and  wrote 
learnedly  on  physics  and  art.1  His  works  are  still 
esteemed ;  and  there  can  be  but  little  doubt  that 
Raphael  was  indebted  to  him  for  much  of  his  technical 
knowledge.  Machines  for  swimming  and  flying  were 
invented  by  him.  He  made  compasses,  hygrometers, 
cut  canals,  planned  fortifications,  and  proposed  works, 
which,  if  he  had  been  allowed  to  execute,  would  have 
still  further  distinguished  him.  With  all  these  varied 
powers  he  was  studious,  always  at  labor,  though, 
perhaps,  devoting  himself  too  much  to  minor  objects, 
instead  of  developing  the  higher  powers  of  his  genius. 
He  visited  market-places  to  study  character,  sketching 
heads,  witnessing  executions,  and  telling  humorous 
stories  to  peasants  to  catch  from  them  comic  expres- 

1  Alexander  Von  Humboldt,  ‘Kosmos,’  -vol.  ii.,  p.  322,  says  of 
him  : — “  He  was  the  greatest  physical  philosopher  of  the  fifteenth 
century.”  “  If  the  views  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci  upon  physical 
subjects  had  not  remained  buried  in  his  manuscripts,  the  field  oi 
observation  afforded  by  the  new  world  would  have  been  explored 
in  many  of  its  branches  of  science  before  the  grand  epoch  of  Galileo, 
Pascal,  and  Huygens.  Like  Francis  Bacon,  he  considered  Induction 
the  only  secure  method  of  arriving  at  conclusions  in  the  natural 
sciences.” 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  329 

sions,  and  probe  the  ideas  of  common  life.  In  fathom¬ 
ing  the  divine  he  was  no  less  intent,  and  with  equal 
success.  The  grotesque  and  horrible  were  treated  by 
him  with  a  power  and  originality  still  unequalled,  as 
may  be  seen  in  his  ‘  Medusa  ’  and  his  crayon  design  of 
(  Dragons  at  play  ’  in  the  Ufizzi.  For  such  studies  he 
kept  a  menagerie  of  snakes,  bats,  lizards,  and  other 
reptiles.  The  terrific  fury  of  his  horses  in  the  ‘  Struggle 
for  the  Standard  ’  is  something  beyond  description. 
Thus  we  find  this  great  artist,  though  gifted  beyond 
all  men  in  variety  of  powers,  an  example  to  all  in  ap¬ 
plication  and  industry.  Like  him,  every  artist  of 
repute  has  an  individuality  about  his  labors  that  iden¬ 
tifies  him  as  distinctly  as  a  man  by  his  features, 
so  that  an  experienced  eye  is  seldom  compelled  to 
inquire  into  the  authorship  of  any  work,  which  time 
has  pronounced  remarkable  for  any  particular  excel¬ 
lence. 

In  a  volume  like  this,  intended  simply  to  embody  a 
few  practical  hints  and  principles  to  assist  the  general 
reader  in  his  estimate  of  Art,  I  can  only  glance  at 
topics  and  works,  each  of  which  have  enough  in  them 
for  a  hook  itself.  With  the  artists  themselves,  as  with 
the  schools,  I  must  confine  myself  to  the  chief  charac¬ 
teristics  of  a  few  great  minds,  referring  those  who 
would  pursue  the  subject  further  to  objects  of  Art, 
which  to  the  amateur  are  what  Nature  is  to  the  artist, 
and  to  those  authors  who  have  treated  Art  more  sped- 


330 


ART-HINTS. 


fically  than  I  am  able  to  do  in  a  work  of  so  elementary 
a  character. 

It  will,  however,  be  easy  for  any  one  who  has  thus 
far  patiently  followed  me  to  the  threshold  of  the  temple 
of  Art  to  make  his  own  way  therein,  with  no  other 
guide  than  a  general  chart,  which,  in  pointing  out  the 
main  features,  may  save  time  and  preliminary  investi¬ 
gation.  Indeed,  I  believe  it  far  better  for  the  indi¬ 
vidual,  after  establishing  within  himself  the  broad 
principles  on  which  Art  is  founded,  that  he  should 
walk  alone,  developing  his  own  judgment,  rather  than 
to  merge  his  identity  in  the  opinions  or  decisions  of 
any  critic,  however  weighty  the  name.  For  my  own 
part  1  have  preferred  to  trust  more  to  my  own  feeling 
than  to  reading,  investigating  Art  itself  in  place  of 
studying  erudite  treatises ;  in  fact,  I  have  read  but 
little  on  the  subject.  My  time  for  several  years  has 
been  mainly  occupied  in  seeking  to  comprehend  Art- 
language,  and  to  test  the  correctness  of  intuitive  feel¬ 
ing  by  the  sculptured  and  pictorial  truths  of  its  masters. 
By  this  course  I  have  undoubtedly  laid  myself  open  to 
professional  criticism ;  but  it  has  helped  to  preserve 
my  own  individuality.  This  was  to  me  the  more 
important  from  my  desire  to  develop  the  genuine 
impressions  of  an  American  mind,  unbiassed  by  ex¬ 
traneous  influences,  upon  its  naturalization  into  the 
Art  of  the  old  world.  My  prior  experiences  were 
derived  solely  from  years  of  travel  in  virgin-soils,  where 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  331 

Art  was  either  as  unknown  as  the  mountains  of  the 
moon,  or  but  a  feeble  exotic.  These  “  Hints,”  there¬ 
fore,  may,  to  the  cultivated  European  mind,  seem  like 
“  twice-told  tales but  to  the  American  I  trust  they 
will  not  he  without  some  value. 

I  shall  now  briefly  illustrate  some  of  the  principles 
of  Art,  as  mapped  out  in  former  chapters,  from  the 
artists  and  their  works  most  generally  known  or  easily 
accessible. 

The  symbolical  or  mystic  treatment  of  religious  Art 
is  one  that  appeals  so  slightly  to  the  common  mind, — 
unless  trained  to  interpret  its  expression,  as  in  the  elder 
days  of  Romanism, — that  it  is  unnecessary  to  recall 
those  artists  who,  devoting  themselves  exclusively  to 
the  idea,  gave  hieroglyphics  rather  than  painting.  We 
perceive  also  a  constant  struggle  to  escape  from  this 
uninviting  style  to  the  more  natural,  in  which  thought 
is  clothed  in  its  usual  life-forms,  to  the  end  that  the 
mind  should  penetrate  the  story  at  once.  This  led  to 
the  more  dramatical  or  historical  styles  of  Art,  by 
which  not  only  the  idea  but  the  scene  was  forcibly 
brought  home  to  the  spectator,  under  the  combined 
force  of  attending  circumstances  and  the  illustrative 
power  of  imagination.  By  this  method  Art  reached  its 
highest  elevation,  as  we  shall  see  in  the  works  of 
various  masters,  each  differing  in  mode  of  thought  and 
expression,  but  all  aiming  at  one  common  result. 
That  which  we  may  term  Historical  Art,  in  distinction 


332 


ART-HINTS. 


from  the  purely  symbolical,  had  also  its  mystic  form  in 
allegory,  of  which  Rubens  was  the  greatest  master. 
It  has,  however,  never  been  popular,  except  with  a  few 
individuals,  who  were  content  with  affectation,  or  better 
pleased  to  be  able  to  interpret,  by  the  subtleties  of 
learning,  that  which  was  an  enigma  to  the  general 
intellect.  Art  is  noblest  when  its  simplicity  and  sin¬ 
cerity,  united  with  technical  excellence,  make  it  intel¬ 
ligible  to  the  universal  mind.  All  its  truth  may  not 
be  perceptible  to  every  one  ;  but  its  light  will  so  shine 
that  the  humblest  shall  be  thereby  illumined. 

I  have  said  that  Art  owes  much  of  its  later  degra¬ 
dation  to  the  Roman  Church.  But  this  did  not  take 
place  until  temporal  power  was  centralised  in  the  hands 
of  the  popes,  and  they  became  more  princes  than  eccle¬ 
siastics.  Upon  the  revival  of  thought  in  the  thirteenth 
century,  the  people  took  Art  into  their  own  hands,  and 
used  it  to  illustrate  the  sacred  legends  and  stories  of 
their  martyr-heroes,  which  had  so  long  been  current 
among  them.  These  were  repeated  in  such  extrava¬ 
gant  forms,  and  with  so  many  inconsistencies,  that  the 
Church  at  first  endeavored,  for  her  own  credit,  to 
repress  them  within  more  rational  limits ;  but  the 
popular  will  was  too  powerful,  and  she  finished  her 
opposition  by  receiving  into  her  own  prolific  and 
orthodox  traditions  the  creations  of  fancy  or  enthu¬ 
siasm  which  once  she  was  disposed  to  condemn,  pre¬ 
ferring  to  make  them  an  instrument  of  power,  than 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  333 

to  risk  her  own  influence  by  boldly  vindicating  the 
truth. 

The  monastic  orders,  that  rose  simultaneously  with 
the  revival  of  Art,  did  much  to  aid  its  development, 
by  commanding  works  to  illustrate  their  traditions  and 
myths,  as  well  as  the  facts  of  Christianity.  Christian 
Art  owes  its  greatest  works,  and  also  several  of  its 
most  distinguished  artists,  to  the  various  religious  bodies 
of  the  Roman  Church.  Indeed,  among  them,  we  find 
the  extremes  of  good  and  evil  of  the  ecclesiastical 
system,  to  which  they  owe  their  origin ;  the  greatest 
learning  and  the  deepest  ignorance  ;  the  utmost  purity 
and  the  most  thorough  corruption ;  sincerity  and  hypo¬ 
crisy  ;  liberality  and  fanaticism.  From  them  have 
sprung  the  most  eminent  men  of  the  Church ;  too  par¬ 
tially  educated  to  look  upon  humanity  as  a  whole, 
nevertheless  of  large  minds  and  great  designs.  There¬ 
fore,  even  the  Protestant,  in  arguing  against  their 
existence  from  their  manifold  abuses,  should  likewise 
testify  to  the  good  that  also  emanated  from  them, 
admitting  at  the  same  time  the  urgency  of  circum¬ 
stances  that  led  to  their  foundation  at  a  time  when,  as 
it  were,  the  knowledge  and  charity  of  the  world,  such 
as  existed,  were  intrusted  to  their  keeping.  Many  of 
the  finest  works  of  Art,  now  gathered  into  galleries, 
were  executed  at  the  suggestion  and  expense  of  the 
monastic  orders.  Their  wealth  and  taste  enabled  them 
to  command  works  beyond  the  ability  of  individuals, 


334 


ART-HINTS. 


while  their  piety  protected  them  equally  from  the  in¬ 
roads  of  classicalism  and  sensualism,  though  not  always 
from  a  tinge  of  bigotry  or  self-glorification.  This 
lasted  until  the  heads  of  the  Church,  under  the  sweep¬ 
ing  changes  of  the  Renaissance,  prostrated  every  bar¬ 
rier  before  its  blighting  influence. 

The  first  effect  of  pure-minded  and  secluded  souls, 
unlike  the  Greeks  who  brought  their  gods  down  to  the 
earth,  was  to  elevate  man  into  spiritual  abodes,  and 
clothe  him  in  the  garb  of  divinity.  From  mysticism 
they  rapidly  passed,  with  the  times,  into  naturalism ; 
thence  degenerated  into  sensualism ;  and  now  are  as 
far  behind  the  world  in  knowledge  and  liberality  as 
they  were  once  in  advance  of  it. 

I  have  before  alluded  to  the  mosaics  on  the  ceiling  of 
the  Baptistery  of  the  Duomo  of  Florence,  as  evidences 
of  the  stiff  and  uninviting  features  of  Byzantine  Art,  of 
which  they  may  be  considered  as  an  average  example. 
They  form  a  complete  pictorial  Bible,  from  the  creation 
of  man  to  the  death  and  resurrection  of  Christ,  com¬ 
prehending  also  those  ideas,  which  then  obtained,  of  the 
thrones  and  dominations  of  heaven,  its  superhuman 
inhabitants,  and  the  terrific  realities  of  a  local  hell-fire 
with  its  ministering  demons.  The  several  histories 
are  all  told  with  the  simplicity  and  vigorous  truthful¬ 
ness  that  characterize  the  first  impressions  of  child¬ 
hood.  A  huge  figure  of  Christ,  clad  in  robes  of  deep 
blue  and  red,  and  displaying  his  pierced  hands  and 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  33o 

feet,  is  the  prominent  object ;  above  him  is  a  repre¬ 
sentation  of  the  Almighty,  as  an  old  man  in  a  red 
frock,  with  a  carefully-trimmed  beard,  holding  the 
book  of  life  ;  on  each  side  are  attendant  cherubs  and 
seraphs.  Beneath  the  Saviour  is  the  scene  of  the  resur¬ 
rection  ;  angels  are  helping  the  good  to  rise  from  out 
of  their  tombs  on  his  right  hand,  while,  on  his  left,  great 
green  devils  with  bat-like  wings  are  eagerly  pulling 
sinners  from  their  graves.  Satan,  as  a  huge  monster  of 
like  color,  is  seen  sitting  in  the  centre  of  hell,  munch¬ 
ing  human  beings  ;  on  either  side  of  him  are  serpents 
and  hideous  imps  pursuing  the  damned,  who  escape 
their  fury  only  by  plunging  into  lakes  of  fire.  Above 
the  infernal  regions,  the  apostles  and  saints  sit  in  stiff 
rows,  with  books  in  their  hands,  while  archangels  lead 
the  saved  in  crowds  to  join  them.  It  is  singular  that 
the  Virgin  is  nowhere  elevated  into  heaven ;  her  life  is 
confined  to  her  earthly  career.  These  mosaics  were 
executed  about  the  year  1230,  and  are  a  fair  illustra¬ 
tion  of  the  Art  and  theology  of  the  day. 

In  the  Ufizzi  gallery,  there  is  a  characteristic  ex¬ 
ample  of  the  better  style  of  Greek  painting,  in  a 
Madonna  and  infant,  by  Andrea  Rica  of  Candia.  It 
dates  from  a.d.  1200.  The  drawing  has  but  a  vague 
resemblance  to  the  human  figure,  either  in  outline  or 
proportion ;  while  the  baby  Saviour  looks  older  than 
his  mother,  and,  turning  from  her  with  an  unhappy 
and  defiant  air,  seems  to  say  to  some  imaginary  foe, 


336 


ART- HINTS. 


“  Touch  me  if  you  dare  !”  Yet  this  class  of  pictures, 
notwithstanding  their  concentrated  ugliness  and  for¬ 
bidding  color,  exercises  the  most  powerful  influence 
over  the  Roman  Catholic  mind,  their  sanctity  being  in 
ratio  of  their  age  and  repulsiveness.  Even  Guido 
Reni,  who  was  famed  for  the  beauty  of  his  Madonnas, 
always  prayed  before  one  of  the  oldest  and  blackest  of 
these  Art-abortions,  instead  of  seeking  inspiration  from 
the  reflected  beauty  of  later  and  more  spiritual  minds. 
To  the  credit  of  noble  Art  be  it  said,  it  is  never  mis¬ 
taken  for  an  idol  ;  men  approach  it  as  the  representa¬ 
tive  of  mind  and  spirit,  and  by  it  are  led  to  worship 
Him  only  who  creates  genius.  The  impotent  attempts 
of  ignorance  or  fanaticism  alone  usurp  the  place  of 
Divinity  and  induce  fools  to  put  their  faith  in  stone  or 
canvas.  Ugliness  acquires  the  power  of  the  savage 
fetich  to  charm  away  evil, — a  delusion  put  upon  man 
by  the  father  of  lies ;  but  Beauty,  founded  on  truth, 
points  eternally  towards  its  Author. 

In  the  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts  at  Florence,  there 
is  a  beautiful  specimen  of  the  exuberant  style  of  the 
pure-minded  Gentile  da  Fabriano.  It  is  an  Epiphany, 
bearing  the  date  of  1423.  The  historical  and  sym¬ 
bolical  associations  connected  with  that  event  are 
admirably  united,  clothed  in  the  allowable  Oriental 
luxuriance  of  locality,  and  displaying  a  variety  in  na¬ 
tural  scenery  uncommon  at  that  time  in  Art.  The  far 
atmospherical  distance  is  gilt ;  beneath  is  the  ocean, 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  337 

with  a  wide  range  of  coast,  and  many  vessels.  The  land 
is  grand  in  features,  broken  up  into  hills  and  valleys, 
sprinkled  with  cities,  and  covered  with  other  evidences 
of  advanced  civilization.  Its  broad  features  are,  it  is 
true,  treated  in  the  Giottesque  style,  their  qualities 
being  merely  suggested ;  but  the  foreground  details  of 
flowers,  fruits,  and  minor  vegetation  are  wrought  out 
with  affectionate  fidelity.  The  long  procession  of  the 
three  kings  winds  among  the  hills.  It  is  full  of  mo¬ 
tion — indeed,  the  whole  picture  is  instinctive  with  life  ; 
birds  fly  through  the  air  ;  camels,  horses,  horned  cattle, 
dogs,  and  monkeys — which  last  were  the  pets  of  fashion 
in  the  time  of  Gentile — grouped  with  courtiers,  and 
the  paraphernalia  of  Oriental  magnificence  and  royal 
retinue,  press  forward  to  the  humble  abode,  outside  of 
which  sits  the  Virgin-mother  with  the  divine  infant  in 
her  lap.  Behind  her  are  two  female  attendants,  who 
receive  and  examine  the  gifts ;  in  front  kneels  one  of 
the  Magi,  with  the  hand  of  Christ  upon  his  head,  as 
though  bestowing  an  infantile  blessing.  The  most 
remarkable  features  of  the  painting  are  the  beauty  of 
expression  of  the  chief  characters,  and  the  exceeding- 
richness  of  the  draperies,  arms,  and  trappings  of  ani¬ 
mals,  which  glitter  with  embroidery  and  jewels  in 
actual  relief,  while  the  coloring  is,  for  that  date,  par¬ 
ticularly  gorgeous.  A  singular  instance  of  the  em¬ 
ployment  of  gilt  in  relief  is  to  be  seen  in  one  of  the 
panel  pictures  below,  where  the  sun,  as  a  bright  gold 

Q, 


338 


ART-HINTS, 


ball,  stands  out  an  eighth  of  an  inch  from  the  paint- 
ing. 

Botticelli,  a  Florentine  artist  of  a  somewhat  later 
date,  presents  a  striking  contrast  in  his  mode  of  treat¬ 
ment  of  the  same  subject.  There  is  equal  sincerity, 
but  no  display  of  imagination,  or  attempt  to  recall  the 
local  features  of  the  scene.  His  faces  are  severe  and 
homely,  and  the  costumes  chiefly  the  ordinary  fashions 
of  Ins  day.  Gilding  he  uses  sparingly.  Although  a 
religious  painter,  Botticelli  essayed  profane  subjects. 
There  is  in  the  Ufizzi,  a  Venus  rising  from  the  sea, 
done  by  him,  the  face  of  which  is  one  of  great  sweet¬ 
ness  and  modesty,  resembling  his  Holy  Virgin  in  his 
‘Adoration  of  the  Magi.’  In  his  time  the  artists  often 
bestowed  upon  heathen  subjects  the  grace  of  Christian 
expression.  It  was  reserved  for  more  cultivated  Art, 
not  only  to  deprive  sacred  personages  of  the  chaste  and 
solemn  draperies  of  simpler  times,  but  to  transform 
angels  into  flying  Mercuries,  and  give  them  the  atti¬ 
tudes  of  ballet-dancers ;  at  the  same  time  the  forms 
and  countenances  of  beatified  Christians,  and  the 
dwellers  in  celestial  spheres,  lost  their  conventional 
purity  and  serious  mien,  and  became  robed  in  sensuous 
beauty  and  volatile  sentiment. 

In  the  early  German  religious  Art,  Nicolaus  Fru- 
menti,  in  his  ‘  Raising  of  Lazarus,’  dated  1461,  also  in 
the  Ufizzi,  presents  a  notable  example  of  that  school 
in  the  incongruous  mingling  of  feeling  with  detail. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  339 

which,  at  first  view,  is  apt  to  give  a  ridiculous  turn  to 
the  whole  subject.  None  can  help  smiling  at  the 
naivete  with  which  the  fact  that  “  by  this  time  he 
stinketh  ”  is  forced  upon  the  spectator,  by  the  upturned 
noses  and  looks  of  unutterable  disgust,  as  the  ghastly 
apparition  rises  from  the  grave ;  even  Christ  appears 
to  considei’  the  odour  as  somewhat  strong.  Aside  from 
this,  there  are  a  variety*  and  sincerity  of  expression 
among  the  group  of  the  most  striking  character.  The 
women,  overcome  by  grief,  are  weeping  and  praying 
too  earnestly  to  notice  at  once  the  miracle ;  the  men 
farthest  off,  and  therefore  most  remote  from  the  smell, 
most  strongly  manifest  their  surprise ;  some  sneer, 
others  are  enraged  ;  a  few  only  recognise  Divinity  in 
the  deed.  It  is  evident  that  the  Saviour,  who  is 
sublimely  unconscious  of  the  emotions  he  has  awakened, 
is  among  a  crowd  of  unbelieving  Jews. 

Emmelinck  of  Bruges  (1479),  in  the  same  gallery, 
gives  one  of  the  most  noted  instances  of  the  finish  and 
minuteness  of  detail  of  the  German  school.  His  color 
is  rich,  and  the  entire  picture  as  brilliant  and  perfect 
as  if  finished  but  yesterday ;  the  subject,  a  holy  fa¬ 
mily,  expressive,  not  elevated,  and  hard.  A  fanciful 
border  of  fruits,  flowers,  lizards,  snails,  and  insects, 
executed  with  the  utmost  delicacy,  and  sufficiently  well 
to  bear  examination  with  a  magnifying-glass,  surrounds 
the  picture.  It  would  seem  that  the  German  artists 
honored  their  sacred  subjects  more  by  the  richness  and 


340 


ART-HINTS. 


laborious  finish  of '  accessories,  devoting  to  them  their 
cunning  handicraft,  than  by  the  homage  of  their  souls 
in  feeling. 

In  no  respect  is  the  healthful  feeling  of  the  early 
religious  painters  more  apparent  than  in  their  fondness 
for  the  landscape ;  their  holy  families  are  almost  in¬ 
variably  placed  in  the  open  air,  which  always  partakes 
of  the  serenity  of  the  holy  personages.  Lorenzo  di 
Credi  is  particularly  happy  in  his  simple  and  affection¬ 
ate  treatment  of  the  landscape  in  his  4  Christ  appear¬ 
ing  to  Mary  Magdalen  ’  as  a  gardener,  especially  in 
the  foreground,  where  the  fresh  upturned  earth  and 
flowers  seem  to  exhale  a  fragrance  appropriate  to  Him 
who  has  been  giving  them  his  care.  The  distance  in 
‘  The  Annunciation,’  of  the  same  artist,  is  admirably 
executed.  Tried  by  the  technical  rules  of  modern 
Art,  this  class  of  pictures  would  be  greatly  wanting  in 
those  qualities  which  are  the  exact  transcript  of  Nature  ; 
yet  they  so  charm  by  their  loving  sincerity,  especially 
in  the  landscape  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  that  criticism 
is  at  once  disarmed.  A  century  and  a  half  later,  we 
have  Christ  and  his  Apostles  also  in  the  open  air,  by 
Carlo  Dolce.  The  difference  between  the  sickly  sen¬ 
timentality  of  the  one,  and  the  honest  feeling  of  the 
other,  cannot  be  calculated  in  words. 

Fra  Bartolomeo  is  almost  the  only  eminent  religious 
painter  who  uniformly  delighted  in  placing  his  sacred 
persons  indoors,  amid  solemn  and  noble  architecture,  to 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  341 

the  loss,  as  it  appears  to  me,  of  much  of  the  genuine 
sympathy  which  the  loveliness  of  Nature  invariably 
extorts  from  pure  tastes.  His  grandeur  saves  him,  as 
Raphael’s  grace  elevates  his  subjects,  whatever  may  be 
their  position  :  but  with  both,  and  Andrea  del  Sarto, 
we  feel  that  whenever  they  take  their  Madonnas  and 
saints  from  out  of  the  natural  landscape  which  they  so 
loved,  and  place  them  upon  thrones  with  saintly 
retinues  around  them,  by  recurring  to  the  associations 
of  earthly  pride  to  add  to  their  religious  dignity,  they 
weaken  correspondingly  the  common  bond  of  affection 
which  unites  our  hearts  with  theirs.  We  sympathise 
with  that  which  we  can  all  alike  enjoy ;  but  when 
those  who  are  dear  to  us  surround  themselves  with  the 
trappings  and  etiquette  of  rank,  our  love  becomes 
simply  homage;  and  in  Art  is  apt  to  stop  short  at 
admiration.  This  refers  more  particularly  to  those 
stately  religious  subjects  which  those  artists  sometimes 
give.  There  is,  however,  an  indoor  domesticity  or 
naturalness  that  goes  equally  to  the  heart  with  associa¬ 
tions  of  cheerful  sunshine,  because  it  savors  of  home 
feeling.  Fra  Angelico  delighted  in  unclouded  heavens 
when  he  stopped  short  at  earth  ;  but  occasionally,  as  in 
his  ‘  Annunciation/  he  gives  a  simple  bit  of  indoor  lifea 
such  as  he  felt,  that  is  touching  from  its  sincerity.  The 
scene  is  a  naked  cloister  of  his  convent  of  St.  Mark  ; 
the  Virgin  meekly  kneels,  with  crossed  arms,  upon  a 
plain  stool,  as  the  archangel,  radiant  with  the  effulgence 


342 


ART-HINTS. 


of  heaven,  tells  his  message.  A  brother  monk,  in  the 
attitude  of  prayer,  inti’oduced  into  the  background, 
mars  the  unity  of  the  scene. 

J.  Van  Eyck,  in  the  same  subject,  takes  us  into  a 
richly-decorated  Gothic  bed-chamber,  furnished  with 
divans,  pictures,  flowers,  and  all  the  luxuries  of  a 
German  household  of  the  fourteenth  century,  while 
the  angel  Gabriel  appears  in  the  richly-embroidered 
robes  of  a  Roman  clerical  dignity,  out  of  which  his 
wings  stiffly  stand  poised  in  the  air.  Better  than 
either  is  Andrea  del  Sarto’s  ‘  Annunciation,’  in  which 
the  angels,  unseen  by  other  eyes,  greet  Mary  as  she 
stands  in  the  open  air,  receiving  the  message  in  faith 
yet  “  troubled  ”  as  to  “  bow  this  should  be.”  The 
whole  scene  is  natural  and  impressive. 

Rubens  invests  this  subject  with  all  his  magnificent 
glow  of  imagination,  introducing  allegory  in  the  shape 
of  female  figures  of  Peace  and  Reconciliation  on  the 
right  hand  of  the  Almighty  in  the  clouds  above.  The 
ark  of  the  covenant,  borne  by  angels,  appears  on  the 
left.  Below  them  are  seen  Isaiah,  Jeremiah,  and  the 
Sybils  of  classical  antiquity,  who  are  claimed  to  have 
foretold  the  Saviour  to  the  Gentile  world.  Moses, 
Aaron,  David,  and  others  of  the  royal  line  of  Judea, 
kneel  behind  the  announcing  angels.  Mary,  meekly 
bending  upon  a  flight  of  steps,  is  overshadowed  by  the 
Holy  Ghost,  in  the  shape  of  a  dove  surrounded  by 
cherubim.  Such  a  picture  shows  the  wonderful 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  343 

power  of  this  artist  in  giving  truthful  vitality  to  even 
the  most  solemn  and  mystic  subject.  Wherein  he 
fails  is  in  the  coarseness  of  his  figures,  and  the  lack 
of  religious  expression  ;  and  although  as  a  whole  his 
pictures  glow  with  rich  coloring,  and  are  warm,  sunny 
and  natural,  yet  in  parts,  particularly  in  his  youth  and 
females,  the  flesh-tints  are  carelessly  laid  on,  the  red 
being  too  positive.  Purple  spots  often  show  like 
bruises,  offensive  to  the  eye,  and  detracting  from  the 
general  harmony. 

Rubens  appears  to  most  advantage  at  Vienna  and 
Antwerp.  No  artist  is  so  universally  known,  both 
from  the  multitude  of  his  works  and  the  individuality 
of  his  style.  Incapable  of  the  highest  efforts  of  the 
imagination,  and  without  feeling  for  pure  religious  Art, 
yet  he  ranged  successfully  over  Nature,  having  a 
genius  capable  of  grappling  with  all  subjects,  and  a 
knowledge  that  gave  them  life  and  vigor.  What 
energy  there  is  in  his  action  ;  how  his  men  lift  in  the 
‘  Rape  of  the  Sabines ;  ’  what  weight  and  solidity  of 
charms  in  the  ravished  women ;  his  Bacchante,  how 
they  carouse ;  a  few  touches  of  his  magic  brush  give 
.  to  us  the  real  animal  in  all  its  vitality ;  what  intellec¬ 
tual  power  there  is  throughout  his  painting !  Pie  wills 
form  and  color  into  existence.  Walls  teem  with  life  at 
his  bidding.  The  glorious  earth-painter  was  he  !  We 
may  have  the  equals  of  many  who  excelled  him  in  parts 
before  another  such  a  whole  as  Rubens  greets  the  world  ! 


344 


ART-HINTS. 


I  cannot  take  leave  of  pure  religious  Art  without 
again  referring  to  the  works  of  Fra  Angelico.  In  the 
cells  of  the  convent  of  St.  Mark  at  Florence,  seldom 
seen  by  strangers,  there  are  several  of  his  frescoes 
deserving  of  careful  study,  as  exhibiting  in  their 
highest  degree  those  qualities  which  obtained  for  him 
the  title  of  “  Beato  ”  (blessed)  among  artists  and  monks. 
Of  his  incapability  to  treat  the  horrible  or  evil  in  an 
ideal  sense,  his  ‘  Christ  descending  into  Limbo  ’  is  a 
striking  example.  Satan,  an  ugly  black  demon,  lies 
crushed  beneath  the  heavy  gates  of  hell,  which  at  the 
Saviour’s  appearance  haye  flown  from  their  hinges, 
overturning  the  devil,  who  doubtless  was  adding  the 
resistance  of  his  weight  to  their  strength.  This  part 
of  the  picture,  though  purely  symbolical,  borders  some¬ 
what  on  the  ridiculous,  but  it  is  redeemed  by  the  ma¬ 
jestic  figure  of  Christ,  who  passes  in  with  supernatural 
force,  quiet  but  quick,  his  presence  illuminating  the 
depths  of  a  vast  cave,  from  which  pour  up  crowds  of 
hungry  and  thirsty  souls  to  hail  their  deliverer. 

Another  cell  is  adorned  with  the  ‘  Crowning  of  the 
Virgin  in  Heaven  by  her  Son.’  The  grace  of  move¬ 
ment  and  purity  of  expression  of  Mary  as  she  bends 
towards  Jesus,  who  does  not  lift  but  ivills  the  crown — 
which  he  touches  only  with  the  ends  of  his  fingers — 
to  her  brow,  are  wonderful.  Beneath  on  the  earth,  in  a 
semicircle,  are  several  of  the  holy  fathers  of  the  Church 
gazing  in  rapt  astonishment  upon  the  celestial  vision. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  345 

Angelico  has  been  most  successful  in  his  contrasts 
between  the  solidity  and  substance  of  flesh  and  cloth¬ 
ing,  and  the  ethereal  nature  of  the  celestial  beings 
above,  who  appear  palpably  to  sight  yet  transparent, 
reposing  as  easily  and  naturally  in  their  heavenly 
atmosphere  as  do  mortals  on  earth,  without  the  sensa¬ 
tion  of  effort,  or  an  unnatural  support,  given  by  almost 
every  other  painter  who  has  attempted  to  portray 
spiritual  life.  Christ  and  his  mother  are  to  our 
eyes  as  they  must  have  appeared  to  his  ecstatic  vision. 

The  fresco  in  which  Angelico  appears  to  the 
greatest  advantage,  as  embodying  the  sweetness  and 
poetry  of  his  spiritualized  imagination,  is  the  ‘  Visit 
of  the  Women  to  the  Sepulchre,’  after  the  Resurrec¬ 
tion.  It  is  a  composition  of  the  simplest  character, 
and  yet  far  more  affecting  than  the  grandest  display  of 
Tintoretto’s  power  or  Rubens’s  dramatic  intellect.  An 
angel  sits  upon  the  empty  grave,  with  one  hand  point¬ 
ing  to  the  void  and  the  other  to  heaven,  as  his  parted 
lips  imply,  “  He  is  not  here  but  is  risen.”  Three  of 
the  women  are  clustered  together  at  the  farther  end  in 
a  graceful  group,  with  a  most  touching  expression  of 
sorrow  and  disappointment.  I  cannot  recall  in  Art  a 
more  elevated  expression  of  grief  joined  to  .personal 
dignity  and  grace  than  in  these  three  female  figures. 
They  exhibit  the  unutterable  repose  of  deep  mourning. 
Mary  Magdalen,  with  a  more  convulsed  sorrow,  bends 
over  and  gazes  eagerly  into  the  vacant  tomb,  as 

Q* 


346 


ART-HINTS. 


though  her  heart  refused  to  credit  her  eyes.  Above 
them  and  unseen,  floating  in  the  heavens,  self-sustained 
and  amid  celestial  glory,  which  emanates  equally  from 
all  parts  of  his  person,  creating  around  it  an  atmo¬ 
sphere  of  supernatural  light,  is  the  Jesus  they  seek, 
looking  calmly  down  upon  the  mournful  group,  con¬ 
scious  of  the  healing  halm  of  faith  with  which  he  is 
about  to  touch  their  hearts  and  open  their  eyes.  He 
bears  in  one  hand  a  banner,  and  in  the  other  a  palm- 
leaf,  the  emblem  of  peace  and  victory. 

The  management  of  the  tints  by  which  the  contrast¬ 
ing  lights  and  transparencies  are  effected,  varying 
from  the  full  materiality  of  earth  to  angel-nature,  and 
rising  into  the  intangibility  of  spirit-life,  form  without 
substance,  is  perfect.  Such  we  may  conjecture  was 
the  exceeding  glory  of  the  transfiguration,  divested  of 
all  of  earth,  in  an  atmosphere  vital  with  divinity.  To 
this  excellence  is  joined  a  spirituality  of  expression, 
and  chaste  yet  natural  arrangement  of  draperies,  that 
make  this  painting,  in  my  opinion,  the  climax  of 
religious  Art.  Those  who  would  realize  what  it 
is  to  see  a  spirit  must  gaze  upon  Angelico’s  risen 
Saviour. 

There  is  yet  another  remarkable  picture-  of  his  in 
the  cell,  known  as  that  of  ‘  Pope  Eugenius  IV.’  It  is 
an  Epiphany,  and  in  his  latest  style.  The  group  is 
full  of  life  and  grace.  Some  of  the  figures  would  not 
discredit  Raphael.  To  the  left,  Joseph,  the  babe,  and 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  347 

the  mother,  are  rendered  in  the  usual  conventional 
forms  and  attitude.  But  the  Magi  and  procession,  in 
color  and  outline,  are  done  with  all  the  vigor  and 
truth  of  the  natural  school,  especially  a  figure  on 
horseback,  shading  his  eyes  as  he  gazes  -intently  upon 
the  divine  infant.  I  must  confess  my  astonishment  to 
find  Angelico  equal  to  so  much  dramatic  force.  Gen 
tile  appears  to  have  borrowed  his  general  idea  from 
this  picture,  which,  as  a  whole,  is  I  think  the  most 
successful  treatment  of  the  subject  in  sacred  Art. 

To  express  divinity  distinctly,  and  apart  from  earth, 
was  for  a  long  time  the  aim  of  religious  Art.  Raphael 
and  Correggio  were  the  first  great  masters  who  strove 
to  humanize  the  Virgin  and  her  Son,  so  as  to  give  the 
tenderness  of  the  mother  and  the  innocence  of  child¬ 
hood  in  one  group,  in  which  the  Divine  element  should 
be  secondary  to  the  sanctity  of  those  affections  which 
cling  closest  to  the  heart  of  humanity.  They  sought 
to  unite  the  loveliest  human  forms  with  its  tenderest 
expressions.  Raphael  alone  triumphed,  and  gave  to 
the  world  those  holy  families,  which  in  motive  and 
grace  of  feeling  are  unrivalled  in  Art.  Correggio’s 
genius  was  not  equal  to  so  lofty  a  flight.  He  was 
undoubtedly  great  in  his  manner  and  clever  in  the 
subtleties  of  painting,  but  he  has  left  nothing  that 
touches  the  heart,  if  indeed  he  may  he  said  to  have 
escaped  affectation.  There  is  no  painter,  considering 
his  reputation,  who  disappoints  the  spirit  so  much. 


348 


ART-HINTS. 


In  repeated  instances  lie  sinks  into  downright  insipidity 
or  sensuality.  There  is  nothing  divine  about  his  holy 
women.  Their  beauty  is  solely  of  the  skin.  No  one 
need  fear  to  make  love  to  them.  His  children  have 
nothing  attractive  in  feeling.  Considered  with  the 
French  school,  Correggio  is  indeed  pure  ;  but  compared 
with  his  contemporaries,  he  made  a  sad  inroad  upon 
sacred  Art. 

In  painting,  Correggio  is  artificial,  and  in  spirit  super¬ 
ficial.  Those  cloud-forms  in  the  dome  of  the  Parma 
Cathedral  are,  however,  wonderfully  transparent,  and 
let  the  eye  into  the  abyss  of  heaven.  He  is  most  at 
home  in  the  nude  and  classical,  as  may  he  seen  in  that 
sunny  picture  in  the  Louvre.  The  flesh  is  bad.  It 
has  not  the  quality  of  healthful  skin,  but  looks  tainted. 
On  no  subject  in  Art  is  there  more  diversity  of  opinion 
than  in  color.  Some  individuals  cannot  distinguish 
one  color  from  another ;  others  call  the  same  hue  by 
different  names.  A  blind  man,  through  feeling ,  is 
perhaps  a  better  judge  than  many  with  full  eyesight. 
By  some  Correggio  is  considered  a  good  colorist.  To 
me,  his  rainbow-tints  have  a  tricky,  flashy  look,  un¬ 
worthy  of  high  Art,  and  savoring  more  of  its  legerde¬ 
main.  There  is  no  reality  in  them.  They  seem 
altogether  evanescent.  Like  the  toilette  of  a  charm¬ 
ing  woman,  they  are  used  more  for  their  own  sake 
than  for  the  subject. 

Vandyke’s  Madonnas  and  Magdalens  are  scarcely 


ARCHITECTURE.  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  349 

better.  They  savor  more  of  the  aristocratic  drawing¬ 
rooms  and  fashionable  weaknesses  of  modern  civiliza¬ 
tion  than  of  the  virgins  and  penitents  of  Judea.  Cor¬ 
reggio  influenced  not  only  him,  but  Baroccio  and 
Parmagianino,  neither  of  whom  equalled  his  good 
qualities,  while  they  carried  his  weak  ones  into  a  still 
greater  degree  of  affectation.  The  tall,  lank,  blonde 
Madonnas  of  the  last-named  artist,  with  their  infants 
equally  long,  are  as  absurd  at  one  extreme  of  Art  as 
were  the  Byzantine  horrors  at  the  other.  Murillo  gives 
healthy  Spanish  women  ;  affectionate  mothers,  well  pro¬ 
portioned  and  beautiful  without  being  sensual ;  women 
full  of  generous  instincts  and  glowing  with  humanity. 
Unable  to  soar  to  heaven,  he  wisely  took  the  best 
types  he  could  find  on  earth,  and  endowed  them  with 
a  grace  peculiarly  his  own.  He  preserved  the  pro¬ 
prieties  of  time  and  scene,  and  gave  to  his  religious 
subjects  the  highest  expression  his  models  were  capable 
of  reaching.  Murillo’s  love  for  common  life  and 
healthful  landscape  has  no  parallel  in  the  contempo¬ 
raneous  Italian  school. 

No  great  artist  fails  more  in  religious  expression 
than  Domenichino.  His  ‘St.  Jerome’  of  the  Vatican, 
indeed,  embodies  the  technical  perfection  of  the  Art  of 
his  day,  but  there  is  no  elevation  in  it.  Its  beauties 
are  of  the  brush.  Compared,  however,  with  his 
examples  of  religious  subjects  at  Bologna,  it  is  of  high 
order.  These  are  coarse,  vulgar,  and  incongruous, 


350 


ART-HINTS. 


painful  to  the  sympathies,  and  bewildering  to  the 
eye. 

Owing  to  the  genius  of  minds  like  Guido, 
Rembrandt,  and  the  eminent  artists  before  mentioned,  the 
natural  or  domestic  treatment  of  sacred  subjects  made 
rapid  progress.  Mary  and  Christ  were  again  brought 
back  to  earth  as  examples  of  maternal  and  filial  love, 
and  made  to  partake  in  the  wants  and  sympathies  of 
human  nature.  This,  no  doubt,  helped  to  bring  them  into 
more  familiar  relations  with  the  common  mind,  but  it 
did  not  contribute  to  the  mysterious  sanctity  of  the  holy 
families,  with  which  those  old  symbolical  pictures 
had  inspired  the  people.  The  tenderness  and  wonder¬ 
ful  power  of  Raphael,  and  the  deep  coloring  and 
artistic  treatment  of  Titian,  consecrated  all  that  they 
touched  ;  but  when,  as  with  Lucio  Massari  of  Bologna, 
Mary  was  represented  as  washing  clothes,  Joseph 
hanging  them  up  to  dry,  and  the  boy  Jesus  taking 
them  from  the  tub  to  give  to  his  father,  it  borders 
closely  upon  the  comical,  and  we  are  disposed  to  smile 
at  a  scene,  which,  although  it  may  have  taken  place  in 
Galilee  many  times  during  the  childhood  of  Christ,  yet 
is  one  that  detracts  from  the  idea  of  Messiahship.  So, 
of  those  works  of  Art — like  a  bas-relief  in  the  Louvre, 
representing  Joseph  at  work  at  his  trade,  Jesus,  as¬ 
sisted  by  a  troop  of  juvenile  angels,  picking  up  chips, 
while  the  Almighty,  as  an  old  man  with  a  papal  tiara 
on  his  head,  sitting  uncomfortably  upon  clouds,  looks 


AECHITECTUBE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  351 

approvingly  on.  Correggio — in  a  pretty  fancy,  which 
Goethe  calls  the  ‘  weaning,’ — pictures  the  infant 
Saviour  as  hesitating  between  the  bosom  of  his  mother 
and  some  tempting  fruit  offered  by  an  angel. 

The  human  mind  cannot  bear  too  much  familiarity 
with  sacred  mysteries.  To  preserve  their  power  we 
must  respect  their  divinity. 


352 


ART-HINTS. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

GREAT  COMPOSITIONS  OF  THE  MASTERS. 

Tiie  worship  of  the  Virgin  Mary  commenced  as  early 
as  the  fourth  century.  It  found  favor  in  the  popular 
mind  the  more  readily  from  the  position  which  woman, 
either  as  chaste  and  beautiful,  or  as  a  type  of  Divine 
maternity,  had  always  held  in  the  mythology  of  pagan 
nations.  The  Egyptian  Isis  nursing  Horus,  and  later, 
in  Ephesus,  the  great  Diana,  chaste  and  prolific,  were 
examples  of  this  widely-spread  belief  of  antiquity. 
To  eradicate  so  deep  a  sentiment  from  the  human 
heart  would  have  been  difficult.  The  theologians  pre¬ 
ferred  to  give  it  another  direction.  lienee  they  did 
not  destroy  the  old  idolatry,  but  transfused  into  it  a 
new  and  purer  element,  retaining  the  dogmatic  idea 
of  an  Astarte,  Eve,  or  Venus,  a  goddess-mother,  hut 
creating  a  fresh  type  of  perfect  womanhood  exalted 
into  divinity.  As  Christianity  had  then  become  to  be 
understood,  there  was  need  of  the  infusion  of  a  more 
humane  doctrine,  something,  which  being  tender  itself, 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  353 

should  pity  the  sorrows  and  plead  for  the  weaknesses 
of  men.  This  was  found  in  the  dominant  belief  of  the 
character  of  the  mother  of  Christ.  “  Blessed  among 
women,”  she  united  in  herself  the  favor  of  the  Most 
High  and  the  loving  sympathies  and  perfect  chastity 
of  virgin  and  mother.  She  had  known  the  highest 
joys  and  the  deepest  sorrows.  All  that  the  human 
mind  could  conceive  of  pure  and  holy  feeling  was 
embodied  in  this  new  feminine  type,  which  claimed 
devotion  from  attributes  that  found  response  in  the 
dearest  relations  of  man.  It  is  not  surprising,  there¬ 
fore,  that  Marianism,  as  the  worship  of  the  Virgin  has 
been  called,  aided  both  by  Church  and  state,  and 
appealing  so  strongly  to  earthly  ties,  should  have 
become  firmly  rooted  in  the  Roman  and  Greek  theology. 

Mary  became  the  universal  inspiration.  Warriors 
and  fair  ladies  equally  claimed  her  protection.  The 
ignorant  peasant  found  consolation  in  her  meek,  pitying 
countenance,  while  the  noblest  intellect  also  confessed 
her  influence  and  sought  her  divine  intercession. 

The  earliest  description  that  we  have  of  the  person 
of  the  Holy  Virgin  is  from  Callixtus,  a  writer  of  the 
fourth  century,  who  professed  to  have  derived  it  from 
a  still  older  source.  It  is  as  follows.  I  quote  it  and 
the  succeeding  truthful  remarks  upon  the  character  of 
Mary,  and  the  feeling  inspired  by  Raphael’s  ‘Madonna 
di  San  Sisto,’  of  the  Dresden  Gallery,  from  the  intro¬ 
duction  to  Mrs.  Jameson’s  ‘  Legends  of  the  Madonna,’ 


354 


ART-HINTS. 


a  work  which  does  credit  alike  to  her  heart  and  head  : — 
“  The  Virgin  was  of  middle  stature,  her  face  oval, 
her  eyes  brilliant,  and  of  an  olive  tint,  her  eyebrows 
arched  and  black,  her  hair  was  of  a  pale  brown,  her 
complexion  fair  as  wheat.  She  spoke  little,  but  she 
spoke  freely  and  affably;  she  was  not  troubled  in  her 
speech,  but  grave,  courteous,  and  tranquil.  Her 
dress  was  without  ornament,  and  in  her  deportment 
there  was  nothing  low  or  feeble.  To  the  ancient 
description  of  her  person  and  manners  we  are  to  add 
the  scriptural  and  popular  portrait  of  her  mind ;  the 
gentleness,  the  purity,  the  intellect,  power,  and  forti¬ 
tude  ;  the  gifts  of  the  poetess  and  prophetess ;  the 
humility  in  which  she  exceeded  all  womankind.  Lastly, 
we  are  to  engraft  on  these  personal  and  moral  qualities 
the  theological  attributes  which  the  Church  from  early 
times  had  assigned  to  her,  the  supernatural  endow¬ 
ments  which  lifted  her  above  angels  and  men ;  all 
these  were  to  he  combined  in  one  glorious  type  of 
perfection.  Where  shall  we  seek  this  highest,  holiest 
inspiration  ?  Where  has  it  been  attained,  or  even 
approached?  Not,  certainly,  in  the  mere  woman,  nor 
.yet  in  the  mere  idol ;  not  in  those  lovely  creations 
which  awaken  a  sympathetic  throb  of  tenderness ;  nor 
in  those  classic  features  of  marble  goddesses,  borrowed 
as  models ;  nor  in  the  painted  ifhages  which  stare  upon 
us  from  tawdry  altars,  and  flaxen  wigs  and  embroi¬ 
dered  petticoats.  But  where  ? 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  355 

“  Of  course  we  each  form  to  ourselves  some  notion 
of  what  we  require ;  and  these  requirements  will  be 
as  diverse  as  our  natures  and  our  habits  of  thought. 
For  myself,  I  have  seen  my  own  ideal  once  and  only 
once  attained  ;  there,  where  Raphael — inspired,  if  ever 
painter  was  inspired — projected  on  the  open  space 
before  him  that  wonderful  creature  which  we  style  the 
‘  Madonna  di  San  Sisto for  there  she  stands — the 
transfigured  woman,  at  once  completely  human  and 
completely  divine,  an  abstraction  of  power,  purity,  and 
love,  poised  in  the  empurpled  air,  and  requiring  no 
other  support ;  looking  out,  with  her  melancholy, 
lovely  mouth,  her  slightly  dilated,  sibylline  eyes,  quite 
through  the  universe,  to  the  end  and  consummation  of 
all  things  ; — sad,  as  if  she  beheld  afar  off  the  visionary 
sword  that  was  to  reach  her  heart  through  Him,  now 
resting  enthroned  in  that  heart,  yet  already  exalted 
through  the  homage  of  the  redeemed  generations  who 
were  to  salute  her  Blessed.” 

None  ever  excelled  Raphael  in  the  tender  variety  of 
expression  he  has  given  to  his  Holy  Virgins.  All  are 
of  an  exalted  character,  excepting  that  pardonable 
touch  of  conscious  loveliness  that  lights  up  the  ‘  Ma¬ 
donna  della  Seggiola,’  which  savors  more  of  the 
human  than  the  divine  mother.  Amid  so  much  excel¬ 
lence,  it  is  difficult  to  decide  upon  the  highest  type, 
but  my  own  impressions  coincide  with  Mrs.  Jameson 
in  regard  to  the  Dresden  ‘  Madonna.’  As  in  his 


35G 


ART-HINTS. 


c  Transfiguration,’  the  effect  is  somewhat  injured  by 
the  introduction  of  an  ecclesiastic  in  full  costume.  The 
eye,  however,  involuntarily  passes  from  this  incongruity 
to  repose  upon  the  lovely  image  above.  Titian,  in  his 
‘  Assumption,’  startles  by  the  brilliancy  and  depth  of 
his  coloring  and  the  dramatic  postures  of  his  figures. 
There  is  great  feeling  in  the  expression  of  his  Virgin, 
but  as  a  whole  it  does  not  elevate  the  soul  into  heaven 
as  does  the  wonderful  painting  of  Raphael.  The  artist 
overpowers  his  subject. 

Murillo  and  Guido  have  frequently  essayed  the 
same  lofty  treatment  of  the  Madonna,  but  with  inferior 
success.  The  former  is  incapable  of  rising  above  the 
lovely,  material  woman,  and  the  latter  is  too  much 
cramped,  by  his  classical  type  of  the  Niobe,  whose 
face  he  constantly  repeats  in  his  sacred  and  profane 
subjects ;  at  times,  however,  in  the  former,  with  a  spi¬ 
ritual  expression  that  does  much  to  redeem  his  lack  of 
invention. 

In  all  the  oil-paintings  of  the  above  character,  which 
aim  at  creating  a  celestial  atmosphere,  there  is  the 
same  uniform  failure,  more  perceptible  in  Murillo  and 
Guido,  but  observable  even  in  Titian.  This  is  the 
hotness  of  the  colors,  reminding  one  rather  of  the  dry 
consuming  heat  of  hell,  than  the  joyous  hues  of  heaven. 
These  should  embrace  every  conceivable  beauty  of 
color  united  in  one  harmonious  tint,  suggestive  of 
life  and  not  of  fire.  Time  may  perhaps  reduce  trans- 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  357 

parency  by  consuming  the  oils  of  many  of  these  pic¬ 
tures,  but  I  believe  the  deficiency  arises  from  the  same 
technical  want  of  skill  which  pervades  the  skies  of 
most  landscapes.  The  colors  are  too  warm  and  posi¬ 
tive,  and  not  sufficiently  scumbled,  tint  over  tint, 
repeated  hundreds  of  times  with  the  most  delicate 
handling,  until  they  so  blend  as  to  form  a  translucent 
whole,  with  sufficient  body  to  resist  time  and  atmo¬ 
sphere.  It  is  a  laborious  process,  requiring  much  time 
and  skill,  but  the  results  are  marvellous.  Some  of 
the  old  masters  paid  but  indifferent  attention  to  the 
qualities  of  natural  scenery,  too  often  content  to  dazzle 
instead  of  convincing  the  senses.  Much,  perhaps,  of 
the  spiritualized  effect  of  the  atmosphere  and  form  of 
Christ,  in  Angelico’s  fresco,  may  be  owing  partly  to 
the  vehicle  employed,  and  partly  to  the  consuming 
touches  of  time  on  the  plaster,  in  eating  delicately  and 
uniformly  into  the  light  colors,  softening  and  blending 
them  into  an  ethereal  whole.  Unless  great  care  has 
been  bestowed  upon  the  preparation  of  oils,  time,  par¬ 
ticularly  with  certain  atmospheres,  works  irreparable 
injury  in  paintings.  This  is  particularly  observable 
in  the  gallery  at  Dresden,  where  so  many  of  the 
pictures,  especially  the  Claudes,  have  had  all  their  life 
eaten  out  of  them.  Fortunately  high  Art  keeps  us 
spell-bound  to  feeling.  This  may  be  increased,  but 
cannot  be  destroyed  by  lack  of  success  in  material, 
while  to  common  Art  external  truth  is  indispensable. 


358 


ART-HINTS. 


The  purest  expression  of  sorrow  I  have  seen  in 
painting  is  a  ‘  Mater  Dolorosa,’  in  a  private  collection 
at  Florence.  It  is  apparently  of  the  Bolognese  school, 
though  its  author  is  unknown.  There  is  a  slight  ex¬ 
aggeration  of  parts,  partaking,  in  a  very  remote  degree, 
of  the  Byzantine  type.  Notwithstanding  these  defects 
of  detail,  which  are  however  scarcely  perceptible,  the 
picture  is  one  of  intense  interest.  To  the  feeling 
mind  no  thought  of  technical  criticism  clouds  the 
tender  sadness  of  the  bereaved  mother,  exhaled  in  a 
look  which  penetrates  the  heart.  From  out  of  those 
large,  melancholy  eyes,  turned  towards  the  spectator, 
with  the  head  slightly  bent,  and  the  lips  gently  parted 
by  the  relaxing  weight  of  grief,  there  issues  a  soul- 
sympathy  with  all  pure  sorrow,  that  draws  forth  re¬ 
sponsive  throbs  of  love  and  pity.  In  them  there  is 
none  of  the  Rachel  refusing  to  be  comforted  because 
her  children  are  not.  Instead  of  the 'visible  tokens  of 
anguish  appealing  to  the  ruder  sympathies,  are  the 
quiet  and  repose  of  grief,  too  deep  for  utterance,  com¬ 
bined  with  the  consciousness  of  the  necessity  of  the 
sacrifice  and  acquiesence  in  Divine  will.  A  halo  of 
glory,  scarcely  perceptible,  so  delicately  is  it  managed, 
irradiates  from  the  head  and  illumines  the  picture. 
Mary  is  represented  as  chastely  beautiful,  young  in 
looks,  from  the  preserving  power  of  her  soul’s  serenity 
and  the  exalted  character  of  her  destiny,  though  her 
years,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  must  have 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  359 

been  wellnigh  fifty.  The  colors  are  subdued  and 
appropriate,  sad  in  every  tone  and  harmonizing  with 
the  expression. 

Ordinary  minds,  and  even  many  great  masters,  find 
no  better  way  to  tell  the  sad  cause  of  the  maternal 
grief  than  by  some  coarse  symbol,  such  as  a  sword 
plunged  into  the  heart  of  the  Virgin,  or  by  the  direct 
introduction  of  the  corpse  of  the  Saviour,  either  lying- 
in  the  lap  or  at  the  feet  of  his  mother.  Not  so  this 
unknown  poet.  Mary  simply  holds  in  her  hands  the 
crown  of  thorns.  This  explains  the  whole  passion, 
carries  us  back  to  Calvary,  prostrates  our  soul  in 
anguish  before  the  cross,  and  leads  us  with  the  weep¬ 
ing  Maries  to  the  Sepulchre.  Christ  had  risen,  but 
the  mother  knows  it  not.  She  touchingly  exhibits  the 
sacred  relic  she  had  taken  from  the  bleeding  brows  of 
her  dead  son.  Thus  far  the  natural  sentiment.  To 
the  devout  mind  the  crown  of  thorns  symbolizes  the 
redemption  of  man.  There  is  in  this  painting’  not  only 
the  sublime  pathos  of  sorrow,  but  the  whole  story  oi 
Christianity. 

How  refined  is  the  treatment  of  this  picture  com¬ 
pared  with  the  ‘  Martyrdom  of  St.  Agnese,’  by  Paul 
Veronese,  in  which  he  represents  the  executioner’s 
knife  as  entering  her  fair  bosom,  out  of  which  gush 
streams  of  blood!  So,  too,  in  statuary, ‘in  Crawford’s 
‘  Dying  Indian.’  Before  us  lies  a  lovely  female  figure, 
symbolical  of  her  expiring  race.  This,  if  properly 


360 


ART-HINTS. 


managed,  was  sufficient  to  tell  the  mournful  tale ;  but 
the  artist,  under  the  mistaken  idea  of  heightening  the 
effect,  has  placed  in  her  wounded  side,  from  which 
drops  the  fresh  gore,  a  broken  arrow-shaft !  By 
this  unnecessary  violence  our  physical  sympathies  are 
shocked,  the  unity  of  the  work  destroyed,  and  the 
moral  lost  in  the  involuntary  wish  to  extract  the 
weapon  and  cure  the  wound. 

For  the  highest  efforts  of  imagination  or  dramatic 
pictorial  Art  we  go  to  Raphael,  Tintoretto,  or  Titian. 
Other  artists,  as,  for  instance,  Guido  in  his  ‘  Cruci¬ 
fixion,’  at  Bologna,  and  Rembrandt  in  the  solemn  gloom 
and  mystery  of  the  same  scene,  made  magic  by  his 
treatment  of  light  and  shade,  occasionally  attain  great 
elevation  of  style.  But  whatever  subject  either  of  the 
above  three  artists  touch,  he  stamps  it  with  a  genius 
which,  in  its  kind,  admits  of  no  rivalship.  For  the 
most  wonderful  exhibition  of  superhuman  power,  as 
seen  in  natural  objects,  we  must  go  to  Raphael’s  fresco, 
in  the  Vatican,  of  the  £  Chastisement  of  Heliodorus,  in 
his  attempt  to  plunder  the  sacred  treasures  of  the 
Temple  at  Jerusalem.’  St.  Michael,  stripped  of  wings 
and  celestial  insignia,  mounted  on  a  naked  steed,  un¬ 
earthly,  not  in  form,  but  in  fire  and  action,  attended 
by  two  spirits,  with  their  hair  streaming  back  from 
their  heads,  comes  sweeping  over  the  marble  floor,  the 
three  gliding  through  the  air,  which  seems  to  part 
before  them  from  the  rapidity  with  which  they  dart 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  361 

upon  the  sacrilegious  wretches,  who  cower  before  the 
unexpected  apparition.  You  feel  them  rush  through 
the  atmosphere.  The  eye  is  fascinated  at  the  uplifted 
arm  of  the  archangel,  and  watches,  tremblingly,  for 
the  annihilating  blow.  Rubens  was  capable  of  giving 
human  motion,  but  Raphael  alone  could  impart  super¬ 
natural  power  to  Art  in  forms  of  earth. 

Rembrandt,  in  his-  fine  picture  in  the  Louvre,  in 
which  the  archangel  Michael  cleaves  the  heavens  by 
the  rapidity  of  his  motion,  gives  him  wings,  and  by 
muscular  effort  and  outstretched  limbs,  suggests  his 
power.  But  with  him  we  feel  that  it  is  physical,  not¬ 
withstanding  his  heavenly  plumage.  Whereas  in 
Raphael,  without  a  single  accessory  borrowed  from  the 
spirit-world,  his  figures  are  unearthly.  They  strike 
terror  and  enlist  expectation  at  once.  There  is  no 
mistaking  their  origin.  He  who  could  endow  form 
with  such  force  must  have  derived  inspiration  from 
divinity  itself. 

Raphael  was  less  complete  than  Leonardo  da  Vinci 
in  artistic  power.  His  highest  expressions  were 
purity  of  soul  and  tenderness  of  emotion.  Unlike 
da  Vinci,  he  was  incapable  of  rendering  the  foul 
passions  of  the  human  heart  in  their  full  degree.  His 
Judas  is,  in  comparison  with  Leonardo’s,  mild  and 
dignified  ;  treachery  and  avarice  do  not  glare  through 
the  features  born  of  his  pencil.  There  is  in  him 
always  a  life  sense  of  pleasure,  the  real,  overflowing  of 

R 


362 


ART-HINTS. 


joyous  nature,  in  distinction  from  spirit,  indicative  of  a 
sunny  temperament,  gratefully  appreciating  the  bounties 
of  material  existence,  in  their  forms  of  life  and  beauty. 
This  is  particularly  noticeable  in  his  pure  and  graceful 
treatment  of  classical  subjects,  whether  as  emblematic 
of  abstract  ideas,  or  as  developments  of  sensuous  joys 
into  human  forms.  Correggio,  who  never  met  him, 
was  even  more  precocious  in  his  genius,  though  far 
his  inferior  in  elevated  Art.  His  feeling  lay  still 
more  in  the  physical  consciousness  of  loveliness ;  an 
attempt  to  idealize  earthly  impulses,  irrespective  of 
spirit.  He  seldom,  if  ever,  depresses  by  sadness ; 
sometimes  he  imparts  a  touch  of  loving  sympathy  or 
pardonable  vanity,  but  never  instructs  or  exalts. 

There  is  in  the  Pitti  gallery  another  sublime  instance 
of  Raphael’s  genius,  borrowed  from  Holy  Writ.  It 
is  the  vision  of  Ezekiel,  a  picture  of  the  smallest  size. 
The  Almighty  floats  in  the  atmosphere,  reposing  upon 
those  four  mysterious  unearthly  creatures,  part  animals 
and  part  angels,  described  by  the  prophet.  Heavy  and 
immateri  1  though  they  be,  contradicting  all  known 
natural  laws,  yet  they  seem  appropriate  to  the  scene,  and 
lill  the  mind  with  awe.  Beneath,  the  eye  ranges  over  a 
wide  expanse  of  earth,  dim,  and  suggestive  of  the  vast 
aerial  space  above,  which  God  fills  with  the  shadow  of 
His  presence.  There  are  truth  and  sublimity  in  the 
conception.  How  grand  does  this  small  picture 
appear,  beside  even  the  colossal  St.  Mark  of  Fra  Bar- 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  363 

tolomeo,  which  embodies  that  sentiment  in  so  ex¬ 
traordinary  a  degree ! 

Among  the  original  designs  of  the  old  masters  in  the 
Ufizzi  collection,  there  is  a  drawing  of  two  strange 
creations  by  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  species  of  dragons  in 
play,  which,  in  fire,  action,  and  terribleness  of  form, 
have  never  been  equalled.  They  have  no  similitude 
to  any  earthly  organization,  yet  are  so  natural,  so 
endowed  with  vitality,  horribly  grotesque  as  they  are, 
that  one  is  tempted  to  believe  in  their  actual  existence. 
Every  other  artistic  monster  is  spiritless  and  artificial 
beside  them. 

For  versatility  and  force  of  imagination  no  artist,  as 
a  whole,  exceeds  Tintoretto.  He  can  be  studied  to 
advantage  only  in  Venice,  and  there  with  difficulty, 
owing  to  the  bad  condition  of  his  pictures,  arising 
somewhat  from  neglect,  but  more  from  the  imperfection 
of  his  materials.  As  a  colorist,  as  now  seen,  he  cannot 
be  classed  with  Titian.  He  is  dry,  harsh,  and  wanting 
in  harmony.  Like  Michael  Angelo,  also,  he  sinned 
from  impetuosity,  seeking  rather  to  strike  out  his  con¬ 
ceptions  at  one  effort,  than  to  patiently  labor  for  per¬ 
fection.  Hence  he  exhibits  the  fire,  but  seldom  the 
completeness,-  of  genius.  He  had  sufficient  power  to 
compose  subjects  for  an  army  of  artists ;  but  not  the 
perseverance,  like  that  of  Titian,  necessary  to  improve 
material  and  style.  In  speaking,  therefore,  of  him, 
his  conceptions  are  more  referred  to  than  his  execution, 


364 


ART-IIINTS. 


though  even  that  would  have  been  sufficient  to  immor¬ 
talize  another  artist.  He  was  often  unequal,  but 
never  little.  At  times  overwhelming  by  the  grandeur 
of  his  thought,  and  at  others,  as  in  his  ‘  Paradise  ’ 
in  the  Ducal  Palace,  confounding  by  extent  and  mere 
labor. 

His  greatest  composition  is  his  ‘  Last  Judgment,’  in 
the  church  of  Santa  Maria  dell’  Orto,  an  immense 
picture,  filled  with  figures  innumerable,  and  displaying 
a  power  over  human  form  unexcelled  even  by  Michael 
Angelo,  whom  he  surpasses  in  grace.  Unlike  him,  his 
imagination  soars  above  the  common  idea.  Ruskin  1 
has  described  the  spirit  of  this  painting  for  all  time. 
His  words  will,  I  am  fearful,  soon  be  all  that  is  left  to 
perpetuate  the  vivid  thought  of  this  great  artist.  I 
cannot  do  better  than  quote  them  : — 

“  By  Tintoretto  only  has  this  unimaginable  event 
been  grappled  with  in  all  its  verity,  not  typically,  nor 
symbolically,  but  as  they  may  see  it  who  ‘  shall  not 
sleep  but  be  changed.’  Only  one  traditional  circum¬ 
stance  he  has  received  with  Dante  and  Michael  Angelo, 
the  boat  of  the  condemned ;  but  the  impetuosity  of  his 
mind  bursts  out  even  in  the  adoption  of  this  image : 
he  has  not  stopped  at  the  scowling  foreground  of  the 
one,  nor  at  the  sweeping  blow  and  demon  bragging  of 
the  other,  but  seized,  ILylas-like,  by  the  limbs,  and 
tearing  up  the  earth  in  his  agony,  the  victim  is  dashed 
1  Modern  Painters,  vol.  ii.,  p.  179.  New  York  Edition. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  365 

into  his  destruction  ;  nor  is  it  the  sluggish  Lethe  nor 
the  fiery  lake  that  bears  the  cursed  vessel,  but  the 
oceans  of  the  earth  and  the  waters  of  the  firmament 
gathered  in  one  white  ghastly  cataract,  the  river  of  the 
wrath  of  God,  roaring  down  into  the  gulf,  where  the 
world  has  melted  with  its  fervent  heat,  choked  with 
the  ruins  of  nations,  and  the  limbs  of  its  corpses  tossed 
out  of  its  whirling,  like  water-wheels.  Bat-like,  out 
of  the  holes  and  caverns  and  shadows  of  the  earth,  the 
bones  gather  and  the  clay-heaps  heave,  rattling  and 
adhering  into  half- kneaded  anatomies,  that  crawl  and 
startle  and  struggle  up  amid  the  putrid  weeds,  with 
the  clay  clinging  to  their  clotted  hair,  and  their  heavy 
eyes  sealed  by  the  earth  darkness,  yet  like  his  of  old, 
who  went  his  way  unseeing  to  Siloam  pool,  shaking  off 
one  by  one  the  dreams  of  his  prison-house,  hardly 
hearing  the  clangor  of  the  trumpets  of  the  armies  of 
God,  blinded  yet  more  as  they  awoke  by  the  white 
light  of  the  new  heaven,  until  the  great  vortex  of  the 
four  winds  bears  up  their  bodies  to  the  judgment-seat ; 
the  firmament  is  full  of  them,  a  very  dust  of  human 
souls,  that  drifts  and  floats  and  falls  into  the  inter¬ 
minable,  inevitable  light ;  the  bright  clouds  are  dark¬ 
ened  with  them  as  with  thick  snow,  currents  of  atom-life 
in  the  arteries  of  heaven,  now  soaring  up  slowly,  farther 
and  higher  and  higher  still,  till  the  eye  and  the  thought 
can  follow  no  farther,  borne  up  wingless  by  their  inward 
faith  and  by  the  angel  powers  invisible,  now  hurled  in 


3GG 


ART-HINTS. 


countless  drifts  of  horror  before  the  breath  of  their 
condemnation.” 

The  canvas  glows  with  this  awful  scene,  a  confused 
and  intensified  thought,  which  Mr.  lluskin  so  graphi¬ 
cally  transfers  to  his  pages ;  but  to  the  careless  eye  it 
exhibits  only  dirt,  dim  forms,  and  faded  colors.  It  is  to 
be  noticed  that  Tintoretto,  Michael  Angelo,  and  every 
artist  but  one,  so  far  as  I  know,  who  has  painted  the 
Last  Judgment,  places  the  spectator  in  hell ;  Angelico 
alone  lifts  him  into  heaven.  This  distinction  forcibly 
illustrates  the  loving  character  of  his  mind,  which  re¬ 
coiled  even  from  giving  expression  to  a  harsh  dogma. 
In  all  pictures  but  his,  and  those  imitated  from  him, 
damnation  is  much  more  conspicuous  than  salvation. 

In  striking  contrast  with  this  painting,  as  a  whole,  is 
Tintoretto’s  historical  conception  of  the  Crucifixion, 
which  embodies  all  the  known  facts  and  probabilities 
of  that  event  in  one  vivid  composition.  As  a  painting 
it  is  excelled  by  others ;  the  sky  is  flat  and  hard,  and 
comes  forward  of  the  objects ;  the  introduction  of 
modern  portraits  and  costume  destroys  the  unity ; 
workmen  are  elevating  one  of  the  crosses  by  ropes 
from  an  impossible  position  in  reference  to  the  picture 
itself.  Other  minor  faults  are  noticeable ;  but  as  a 
grand,  comprehensive  thought,  illustrated  by  all  that 
ca-n  give  solemnity,  pathos,  local  interest,  and  circum¬ 
stance  to  the  scene,  it  is  unequalled.  Perhaps  no 
artist  has  ever  more  successfully,  from  a  simple  inci- 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  367 

dent  introduced  so  naturally  amid  the  main  features  as 
almost  to  escape  observation,  heightened  feeling  and 
interest  by  recalling  a  contrasting  event  of  brief 
triumph  and  popular  enthusiasm,  with  the  fatal  re¬ 
action  of  disappointed  national  pride  and  fanaticism. 
But  five  days  previous,  Christ  entered  Jerusalem  upon 
an  ass,  amid  the  hosannahs  of  the  Jews,  who  strewed 
palm-leaves  in  his  way.  Now,  behind  the  cross,  point¬ 
ing  to  Jesus  in  scorn,  is  one  of  the  late  multitude, 
seated  upon  an  ass,  which  is  quietly  eating  the  withered 
palm-leaves.  We  may  well  call  this,  with  Buskin,  a 
44  masterstroke  ”  of  feeling. 

There  is  an  4  Adoration  of  the  Magi’  by  Tintoretto, 
consisting  of  a  few  dignified  Venetians,  portraits,  re¬ 
verently  approaching  the  Divine  Babe  and  his  mother, 
which  is  remarkable  for  his  peculiar  grace  of  com¬ 
position.  His  4 Presentation  at  the  Temple’  is  more 
original  in  its  treatment  than  Titian’s,  though  lacking 
the  interest  of  the  other  in  accessories. 

Tintoretto,  with  a  spirit  of  buffoonery  inexplicable 
in  him,  in  his  4  Last  Supper  ’  in  the  church  of  Santa 
Trovasa  at  Venice,  has  made  St.  John  fast  asleep, 
while  other  apostles,  with  undignified  action,  are  ask¬ 
ing,  44  Lord,  is  it  I  ?”  One  of  their  number  uncovers 
a  dish  on  the  floor,  out  of  which  a  cat  is  stealing  meat. 
Another  coarsely  grasps  a  flask.  Overthrown  furni¬ 
ture,  a  beggar  eating,  and  other  incongruous  acces¬ 
sories,  bespeak  rather  a  low  revel  than  the  love-feast 


368 


ART-HINTS. 


of  our  Saviour.  Such  moral  perversities  seem  peculiar 
to  many  great  minds.  Michael  Angelo,  although  not 
so  vulgar,  is  frequently  coarse,  overstrained,  and  ex¬ 
aggerated,  particularly  in  position  and  form.  His 
‘  Fortune  astride  the  Wheel  ’  is  an  instance  of  the  one  : 
and  of  the  other,  the  ostentatious  anatomy  and  bulky, 
ungraceful  forms  of  so  many  of  his  figures,  particularly 
his  females,  which  are  suggestive  of  anything  rather 
than  the  delicate  limbs  of  the  sex.  There  is,  how¬ 
ever,  in  the  Sistine  Chapel  a  group  of  his  of  a  mother 
and  child,  full  of  tenderness.  This  is  an  exception. 
His  Jove,  as  is  seen  in  his  Leda  and  other  females,  is 
chilling  and  repulsive,  lacking  sex.  But  an  artist  who 
could,  like  himself,  devote  ten  years  of  his  life  without 
pay  to  the  completion  of  St.  Peter’s,  must  have  had  an 
elevated  soul. 

Titian  is  the  most  complete  painter  the  world  has  as 
yet  produced.  Without  the  grace  of  expression  and 
elevation  of  thought  of  Raphael,  the  intensity  of  imagi¬ 
nation  and  force  of  Tintoretto,  or  the  vividness  and 
universality  of  Rubens,  Titian  surpasses  them  all  in 
the  general  qualifications  of  his  Art.  He  was  little  or 
weak  in  nothing.  Expression,  design,  color,  knowledge 
and  care  of  material,  love  of  Nature  at  large,  ability  to 
comprehend  and  feel  his  subject  intellectually,  per¬ 
severance,  independence,  dignity,  and  devotion  to  his 
Art,  were  all  united  in  him,  and  conspicuous  to  the 
verge  of  a  life  that  terminated  only  at  one  year  short 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  369 

of  a  century.  Therefore  I  claim  Titian  to  be  in  whole 
the  greatest  of  painters. 

Wherever  his  works  appear,  though  not  always 
equally,  he  is  well  represented.  There  is  not  a  gallery 
of  repute  in  Europe  that  does  not  possess  characteristic 
specimens  of  his  style.  Venice,  however,  retains  his 
greatest  works.  Titian  is  as  much  associated  with 
that  city,  as  Raphael  with  Rome,  and  Michael  Angelo 
with  Florence.  Time  but  confirms  more  strongly  the 
judgment  of  his  contemporaries  as  to  his  greatness,  and 
still  refuses  to  present  the  world  with  his  equal.  The 
gift  by  which  he  is  distinguished  from  all  other  artists, 
even  of  his  own  school,  is  color.  For  this  he  had  the 
same  intuitive  sense  of  its  attractive  power,  that  Raphael 
possessed  for  grace  of  form.  His  name  has  become 
synonymous  with  its  highest  expression.  Artists  of 
great  repute  have  passed  their  entire  career  in  endea¬ 
vouring  to  penetrate  the  secrets  of  his  method,  that 
they  might  rival  his  success.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 
has  been,  perhaps,  the  most  successful  from  study, 
and  Gainsborough  from  feeling  ;  but  both  fail  when  in 
contrast  with  his  strength. 

In  no  respect  does  he  show  his  greatness  as  a  painter 
more  prominently  than  in  his  portraits.  There  are  in 
the  Pitti  Gallery,  heads  of  Popes  Leo  X.  and  Julius  II., 
by  Raphael ;  of  Grotius;  Lipsius,  and  Rubens,  in  one 
picture,  by  Rubens;  and  of  Rembrandt,  by  himself. 
Each  of  them  is  in  the  highest  style  of  their  Art,  and 

R* 


370 


ART-HINTS. 


sufficient  in  themselves  to  immortalize  their  authors, 
particularly  Rembrandt,  who  has  thrown  around  his 
own  likeness  the  full  magic  of  his  golden  light,  which 
falls  upon  his  face  with  all  the  joyous  and  rich  effect  of 
the  beams  of  a  setting  sun.  Before  him  we  so  lose 
ourselves  in  admiration  at  his  subtle  management  of 
light  and  shade,  that  the  man  is  forgotten  ;  vigor  and 
color  attract  in  Rubens  ;  and,  with  Raphael,  expression 
and  finish.  In  each  of  these  artists,  wonderful  as  are 
their  attainments  in  portraiture,  individual  style  and 
manner  are  conspicuous  to  a  degree  that  eclipses  in 
the  main  their  subjects. 

Not  so  with  Titian.  Near  the  above-named  portraits 
there  are  two  by  him ;  one,  an  old  man,  supposed  to 
be  Cornaro,  the  author  of  a  treatise  on  the  c  Art  of 
Living,’  and  the  other  unknown.  The  eye  that  rests 
on  either  thinks  only  of  the  real  living  man,  not  as  on 
canvas,  but  standing  bodily  before  one  in  all  his 
vitality.  Look  at  them  through  the  half-closed  hand, 
so  as  to  conceal  the  frame,  and  the  illusion  is  complete. 
The  other  portraits  betray  the  brush  and  flat  surfaces. 
These  are  surrounded  with  atmosphere.  The  heads 
project  from  the  canvas.  Lines  are  so  softened  and 
blended,  that  no  trace  is  left  of  Art ;  color  rivals  Nature 
in  the  cool  softness  of  its  hue ;  the  skin  is  flexible 
and  elastic ;  blood  and  bones  lie  beneath  it ;  perfect 
harmony  is  felt  in  its  tints;  indeed,  no  one  thinks  of 
color  at  all,  but  of  the  living  face,  which  glows  with 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  371 

individuality.  The  expression  of  the  unknown  portrait, 
that  man  of  stern  resolution  and  intellectual  power,  is 
unrivalled.  His  eyes  flash  thought.  There  is  that 
about  his  look  that  fascinates,  and  yet  the  spirit  shrinks 
before  it.  We  feel  that  such  an  individual  had  a  will 
and  intellect  to  dare  all  that  man  can  do.  What  he 
may  have  done  is  unknown;  his  very  name  is  lost. 
This  adds  the  charm  of  mystery,  for  we  know  that 
Titian  did  not  waste  his  time  on  common  men. 

The  ‘Venus’  of  the  Tribune  at  Florence  is  his 
most  wonderful  exhibition  of  artistic  skill  in  color. 
Those  who  are  not  technically  acquainted  with  the 
difficulties  to  be  overcome  in  the  management  of  this 
subject  will  fail  to  appreciate  its  success.  Titian  did 
not  paint  this  picture  to  show  a  nude  figure,  but  to 
exhibit  his  power  over  light  and  color,  in  their  most 
difficult  combinations,  without  the  aid  of  the  usual 
effects  of  shadow  and  other  art-subtleties  by  which  an 
inferior  artist  would  have  •  sought  to  cover  his  weak 
points.  As  a  work  of  Art  it  is  far  superior  to  the 
renowned  ‘  Venus  de  Medici,’  which  stands  beneath. 
He  has  given  the  delicate,  roseatic  tints  of  flesh  in 
their  most  lovely  expression,  in  contrast  with  the  white 
of  linen,  and  in  the  full  glare  of  daylight,  treating  the 
whole  simply,  yet  embodying  truths  of  Art  in  a 
manner  so  faithful  to  Nature,  that  no  artist  has  yet 
been  found  to  rival  him.  Examine  the  outlines  of  his 
flesh  !  There  is  no  sharpness  in  them.  They  dis- 


372 


ART-HINTS. 


appear  gradually  in  atmosphere,  in  soft  and  distinct 
form,  half  displaying  and  half  suggesting  the  natural 
curvatures.  As  in  looking  upon  the  best  Greek 
statues,  we  feel  that  the  anatomy  is  perfect,  but  do 
not  think  of  it.  His  flesh  is  warm  and  springy.  So 
subtly  are  its  tints  managed  that  the  entire  unity  of 
glowing  life  reposes  in  the  figure.  Generous  blood 
lies  underneath  that  soft  skin.  Look  also  at  the  trans¬ 
parencies  of  the  shadows :  they  darken,  but  conceal 
nothing ;  you  know  they  are  trembling  shadows,  not 
opaque  paint,  as  with  common  artists.  With  what 
consummate  art  has  Titian  husbanded  his  power  of 
light  in  this  picture  !  It  illuminates  itself,  and  yet 
there  is  nothing  in  it  higher  than  half-light.  Every 
tint  is  subdued  and  cool,  but  the  whole  picture  is 
transparent  and  harmonious.  What  a  study  for  those 
artists  who  shock  one’s  eyes  with  spotty  colors  and 
pictures,  pitched  upon  so  high  a  key  as  to  present 
broad  masses  of  opaque  whites  and  corresponding 
lights  !  Titian  never  exhausts  himself,  simply  by  not 
attempting  impossibilities.  Where  he  cannot  rival 
Nature  he  suggests  her  in  so  skilful  a  manner  that  we 
forget  her  scale  in  his  Art.  There  is  labor  incal¬ 
culable  in  this  picture,  but  no  evidences  of  it  are 
obtruded  upon  the  sight.  Indeed,  so  natural  is  the 
whole  that  its  merit  is  often  forgotten  in  the  apparent 
freedom  of  execution. 

Although,  strictly  speaking,  Titian  had  no  feeling 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  373 

for  religious  Art,  yet  his  sacred  subjects  have  been  so 
artistically  treated,  as  to  entirely  eclipse,  in  the  popular 
mind,  the  numerous  profane  or  classical  pictures  which 
have  issued  from  his  pencil.  The  Borghese  Gallery 
at  Rome  owns  the  ‘  Entombment  of  Christ,’  by  Raphael, 
full  of  his  touching  sympathy  and  grace  of  expression. 
The  interest  of  this  painting  lies  not  so  much  in  it  as 
a  whole  as  in  the  wonderful  feeling  of  parts.  We 
individualize  the  sentiments  and  associate  ourselves 
with  the  persons.  Not  so  with  Titian’s  4  Entomb¬ 
ment’  in  the  Louvre.  Nature  harmonizes  with  the 
mourners.  The  unity  of  the  entire  scene  is  kept 
up,  and  we  feel  that  we  are  gazing  upon  a  solemn 
reality.  Its  oneness  admits  of  no  divided  atten¬ 
tion. 

Titian’s  4  Presentation  of  the  Virgin,’  now  in  the 
Academy  of  Fine  Arts  at  Venice,  displays  his  supe¬ 
riority  to  Paul  Veronese  in  architecture,  which  besides 
being  natural  in  position  and  design,  has  what  the 
other  rarely  gives,  the  quality  of  stone.  The  acces¬ 
sories  of  landscape  and  domestic  touches  in  this  picture 
are  upon  a  par  in  excellence  with  the  treatment  of  the 
main  subject.  It  includes,  perhaps  more  than  any 
other  work,  the  chief  merits  of  Titian  as  a  painter. 
Each  part  is  in  its  proper  relation  of  quality  and 
design  to  the  whole.  In  it,  however,  although  he 
displays  dramatic  effect  and  sumptuous  treatment,  he 
fails  in  imaginative  power.  The  idea  is  in  the  main 


374 


ART-HINTS. 


borrowed  from  the  older  picture  of  the  same  subject 
by  Carpaccio. 

Of  all  Titian’s  grand  compositions,  the  ‘  Peter 
Martyr,’  on  which  he  worked  eight  years,  is  the  most 
effective  in  technical  power  and  intensity  of  expression. 
His  imagination,  weaker  than  Tintoretto’s,  and  less 
inventive  than  Raphael’s,  makes  no  effort  to  reach  the 
sublime  or  superhuman,  but  it  is  wonderfully  suc¬ 
cessful  in  investing  a  natural  scene  with  all  the  pro¬ 
babilities  of  circumstance  and  spirit,  calculated  to 
impress  the  spectator  with  its  reality.  In  itself,  the  as¬ 
sassination  of  the  monk  was  a  no  more  effective  subject 
than  any  vulgar  murder.  Titian  has,  however,  worked 
it  up  into  a  scene  of  startling  truth,  despite  the  draw¬ 
backs  of  the  bald  heads  and  unpicturesque  costume  of 
the  sufferers.  The  locality  is  the  edge  of  a  dark 
forest,  made  tenfold  more  gloomy  under  the  effect  of 
departing  day.  The  sky  is  filled  with  dense  masses  of 
clouds,  through  which  struggles  a  mysterious  opalescent 
light.  His  trees  have  a  spectral  look,  yet  are  so  true 
to  nature  that  their  branches  seem  to  move  in  the 
night-wind,  as  it  moans  through  their  leaves.  In  the 
far  distance,  just  perceptible  among  them,  an  affrighted 
horse  and  rider  fly  from  the  crime.  But  the  eye 
scarcely  notices  them,  so  intently  does  it  rest  upon  the 
fallen  Peter,  who  vainly  endeavors,  with  uplifted 
hands,  to  avert  the  murderous  blows  of  the  assassin, 
while  even  then  his  eyes  brighten  at  the  vision  of 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  375 

Paradise.  To  the  left,  a  brother  monk,  wounded,  and 
with  eyeballs  starting  in  horror  from  his  head,  rushes 
forward,  confounded  and  not  knowing  where  to  go. 
His  heavy  garments  trail  behind  him  by  the  velocity 
of  his  motion.  The  involuntary  exclamation  at  this 
figure  is,  “  How  he  rushes !”  More  of  sympathetic 
horror,  from  merely  a  few  natural  causes,  no  artist 
ever  embodied  into  a  painting.  We  have  the  crime  in 
its  awful  truth  without  the  ghastliness  and  display  of 
gore  which,  as  in  Paul  Veronese’s  picture  of  the  same 
subject  at  Parma,  weaken  the  effect  by  doing  too 
much  violence  to  our  physical  nature.  We  indeed  see 
the  wounds  and  trickling  blood.  These  are,  however, 
but  secondary  objects.  Above  the  dying  monk,  poised 
in  the  air,  amid  a  halo  of  celestial  light,  are  beautiful 
angels,  waiting  to  welcome  the  spirit  of  the  martyr 
with  crowns  of  everlasting  joy. 

No  description  can  do  justice  to  this  picture.  When 
I  last  saw  it  it  had  been  cleaned,  not  as  is  usual  in 
Italy  to  the  detriment  of  Art,  but  so  as  to  preserve  its 
original  harmony  and  brilliancy.  Tintoretto,  Boni¬ 
facio,  Bellini,  Palma,  Paul  Veronese,  and  other  dis¬ 
tinguished  artists,  are  well  represented  in  the  church 
of  “San  Giovanni  e  Paolo,”  but  all  of  them  pale  and 
look  heavy  before  the  radiance  of  this  glorious  painting, 
which  from  whatever  point  it  is  viewed  illumines  the 
building. 

No  artist  is  more  worthy  of  study  than  Titian, 


376 


ART-HINTS. 


from  the  fact  that  he  kept  constantly  in  view  that  the 
chief  object  of  a  painter  was  to  -paint.  Color  was  in 
him  as  expressive  of  the  idea  as  form,  perhaps  more  so. 
Painters  generally  are  apt  to  lose  sight  of  the  import¬ 
ance  of  color  as  language.  By  this  neglect  they 
appear  to  less  advantage  in  painting  than  in  engraving 
or  outline  ;  whereas  with  Titian  no  engraving  does  him 
justice.1 

Rembrandt  was  also  a  great  colorist.  He  is  not 


1  Some  excellent  judges  claim  for  Titian  also  a  distinct  religious 
feeling  in  Art.  Inasmuch  as  he  approached  the  complete  artist,  he 
had  the  capacity,  in  a  high  degree,  of  giving  an  appropriate  expres¬ 
sion  to  even  his  religious  pictures  ;  but  this  was  rather  the  result  of 
intellectual  appreciation  than  of  soul-sentiment.  So  great  and  well- 
balanced  a  mind  as  his  must  have  been  in  some  degree  devotional, 
and  imbued  with  a  sense  of  the  importance  of  religion.  But  it  was 
not  with  him  the  governing  feeling,  as  with  Giovanni  Bellini.  This 
distinction  between  these  two  great  artists  is  admirably  shown  in 
the  celebrated  picture  in  the  Camuccini  Gallery  at  Borne,  of  which 
the  figures  are  by  Bellini  and  the  landscape  by  Titian  ;  and  the 
Venus  and  Adonis,  hanging  beside  it,  which  is  wholly  Titian’s.  In 
mythological  subjects,  nature  and  all  that  constitutes  free,  yet 
dignified  life,  sensuous  action  and  high  capacities  of  physical  enjoy¬ 
ment,  or  intellectual  excitement,  we  find  Titian  conspicuous.  On 
the  other  hand,  Bellini,  who  has  brought  Jupiter  and  his  celestial 
court  to  feast  on  earth,  has  wholly  failed  in  spirit.  Their  carnal 
feasting  is  a  sad,  labored  affair ;  no  one  is  enjoying  himself ;  all 
look  as  if  guilty  consciences  or  forced  revelry  disquieted  them. 
The  artist  had  no  feeling  for  such  a  scene,  and  therefore  failed  in 
its  treatment.  The  landscape  of  this  picture  is  particularly  solemn 
and  grand.  There  are  no  harmony  of  colors  or  unity  of  conception 
in  it,  because  neither  artist  painted  on  a  common  key,  nor  entered 
into  the  motive  of  the  composition  ;  yet  it  is,  as  a  whole,  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  paintings  in  Europe,  from  its  artistical  associations 
and  peculiar  treatment. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  377 

often  viewed  in  this  light,  owing  to  the  enchantment, 
which  he  throws  over  his  pictures  by  his  management 
of  chiaro-oscuro.  To  appreciate  his  entire  power  his 
great  picture  in  the  museum  of  Amsterdam  must  he 
seen.  This  alone  is  an  epoch  in  Art-life,  because  it 
embraces  all  the  excellencies  in  their  highest  degree 
which  make  him  unique  among  artists.  Nowhere  is 
Rembrandt  more  himself.  The  composition  is  vast, 
varied,  full  of  motive,  diversified  in  sentiment,  yet  in 
color,  design,  and  action  in  perfect  unity.  It  is  called 
‘  The  Night  Guard,’  though  it  would  be  as  difficult  to 
assign  it  a  name  as  to  define  the  time  of  the  scene. 
The  intention  of  Rembrandt  was  undoubtedly  to 
display  his  magic  power.  It  must  be  judged,  there¬ 
fore,  not  so  much  in  relation  to  probabilities  of  nature 
as  to  the  artistic  skill  of  its  author.  The  relief  of  the 
figures  is  most  wonderful.  Each  keeps  its  relative 
position,  one  behind  another,  until  the  eye  is  lost  in 
the  gloom  of  the  obscure  doorway.  The  colors  are 
tender,  harmonious,  and  brilliant,  reminding  one  of  the 
changeable  hues  of  the  opal,  as  each  turn  of  the  eye 
develops  some  new  combination  of  beauty.  There 
is  nothing  to  explain  the  action  of  the  piece,  yet  the 
interest  is  fascinated.  In  no  part  is  the  skill  of  the 
artist  more  displayed  than  in  the  transparency  of  his 
shadows.  But  the  most  wonderful  feature  is  the 
manner  of  illuminating  the  picture.  No  one  can  say 
whence  comes  the  light.  It  is  not  of  day,  nor  of 


378 


ART-IIINTS. 


night,  it  cannot  be  called  that  of  the  moon  nor  of 
torches ;  yet  there  is  a  bewitching  illumination  over 
the  whole,  as  far  removed  from  the  spectral  as  from 
the  natural.  Rembrandt’s  genius  alone  can  solve  the 
mystery. 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  379 


CHAPTER  XX. 

ART  IN  RELATION  TO  ARTISTS — THE  LANDSCAPE 
MASTERS. 

Thus  far  inyny  brief  notice  of  painting  I  have  confined 
myself  to  the  higher  branches  of  religions  or  historical 
Art.  Of  the  painters  of  indoor  and  common  life  I  do 
not  intend  to  treat,  because  there  is  something  in 
every  refined  mind  which  instinctly  leads  it  to  accept 
the  true  and  reject  the  false,  in  objects  familiar  to 
heart  associations.  This  refers  to  the  motive  rather 
than  to  the  execution ;  but  I  have  already  said  enough, 
it  is  to  be  hoped,  to  lessen  the  admiration  for  external 
finish  by  which  so  many  test  their  appreciation  of  Art. 
If  not,  let  them  examine  carefully  the  portraits  of 
Denner.  No  man  ever  half  so  carefully  finished  the 
human  exterior.  Every  wrinkle,  pore,  each  hair,  and 
the  minutest  fraction  of  skin-surface,  are  all  elabor¬ 
ately  worked  out  and  colored  after  life.  Yet  I  never 
saw  a  portrait  of  his  that  did  not  thrill  me  with  dis¬ 
gust.  I  would  as  soon  have  a  flayed  animal  in  my 


380 


ART-IIINTS. 


room  as  one  of  his  heads.  They  are  suggestive  ot 
nothing  but  nerres  and  blood-vessels.  In  striking  con- 
trast  with  his  works  are  the  portraits  of  Holbein  and 
Kranach  ;  hard,  unnatural  in  outline,  valueless  in  color, 
and  as  unlike  the  mere  physical  as  possible,  yet  pleasing 
from  their  sincerity  and  character.  In  them  we  find 
evidences  of  something  better  than  mere  finger-work. 

The  natural  world,  chiefly  in  landscape,  has  become 
the  favorite  Art  of  this  century.  This  argues  a  whole¬ 
some  taste.  Of  the  old,  conventional,  religious  land¬ 
scape,  we  have  but  few  recent  examples.  Each  artist 
affects  to  go  to  Nature,  because  the  public  mind  insists 
upon  nothing  less.  Many,  however,  deceive  them¬ 
selves  and  their  friends  by  shamming  what  they  have 
not  the  resolution  to  pursue. 

Correggio,  considering  his  time,  took  perhaps  the 
greatest  step  in  divesting  landscape  Art  of  its  previous 
stiffness  and  formalism.  He  attempts  the  freedom 
and  grace  of  Nature,  particularly  in  his  foregrounds. 
To  Titian,  however,  landscape  is  most  indebted.  Al¬ 
though  he  never  wholly  freed  himself  from  the  old 
system,  yet  his  landscapes,  as  a  whole,  are  simple  and 
broad  in  character,  giving  the  general  features  of 
Nature,  though  not  its  variety.  That  which,  however, 
he  rendered  in  foreground  detail,  is  given  with  perfect 
fidelity  of  form  and  color.  Grandeur  and  majesty 
were  his  chief  aims.  W e  are  impressed,  however,  both 
by  the  general  spirit  of  his  views,  and  by  the  excellence 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINT  NG.  381 

of  detached  parts.  His  ‘  St.  Jerome,’  in  the  Brera 
Gallery  at  Milan,  is  a  happy  example  of  how  far  he 
could  steep  Nature  in  his  imagination,  adhering  to 
her  truths  but  investing  them  with  occult  meaning. 
Landscape  with  him,  however,  is  always  an  accessory. 
One  of  the  most  attractive  views,  from  the  extent  and 
variety  he  introduces,  is  to  be  seen  in  his  Dresden 
‘  Venus.’  Nature,  in  his  hands,  always  maintains  its 
dignity.  In  his  skies  there  is  perhaps  a  somewhat 
artificial  rendering  of  light,  as  if  he  sought  to  exag¬ 
gerate  effects  by  a  species  of  twilight  mystery.  He 
never  painted  actual  sunlight,  but  tried  to  give  a 
luminous,  serious  effect,  in  harmony  with  his  subjects. 
Sometimes,  as  in  his  ‘  St.  Catherine,’  in  the  Pitti 
Palace,  the  clouds  are  hard  and  monstrous,  rendering 
his  distant  hills  of  blue,  in  comparison,  quite  trans¬ 
parent.  These  effects  were,  however,  before  his  style 
in  this  branch  was  fully  formed.  Later,  particularly 
in  his  trees,  he  was  unrivalled,  both  in  truth  of  quality 
and  outline.  In  general,  his  water  is  liquid  and  his 
earth  dry,  telling  with  solidity  against  his  sky,  while 
his  light  is  subtly  and  equally  diffused  throughout  his 
pictures. 

Tintoretto  felt  landscape,  and  had  a  greater  grasp 
of  imagination,  but  with  less  ability  in  technical  ex¬ 
pression  than  Titian.  The  world  can  judge  of  an 
artist’s  power  only  by  its  results.  It  has  neither 
time  nor  inclination  to  spend  over  the  illegible.  The 


382 


ART-HINTS. 


artist,  therefore,  who  slurs  his  work  from  impatience, 
or  aims  only  at  coarse  effect,  like  stage  scenery,  paying 
no  attention  to  the  purity  and  permanency  of  his  ma¬ 
terials,  must,  like  Tintoretto,  reconcile  himself  either 
to  be  forgotten  or  overlooked  by  the  public.  There 
is  no  injustice  in  this,  because  genius  has  no  authority 
to  outlaw  the  vehicles  of  its  thought.  To  be  success¬ 
ful  it  must  be  considerate  in  all  things. 

Salvator  Rosa  gives  confused  dreams  of  the  natural 
world.  Much  that  is  false  in  quality,  or  strained  in 
sentiment,  he  mixes  with  occasional  bits  of  truth, 
fresh  and  vigorous  from  Nature.  He  had  power  and 
will,  but  lacked  judgment  and  patience.  He  did 
much,  however,  to  recall  love  for  open  healthful  scenery, 
and  the  motive  and  execution  of  his  landscapes  have 
yet  power  to  charm. 

In  Claude  we  see  more  truthful  results  from  inferior 
natural  abilities.  He  had  no  invention  or  taste  in 
composition.  Consequently  his  landscapes,  in  general, 
are  unpleasantly  artificial,  indeed,  I  may  say,  little  in 
thought.  But  in  his  direct  studies  from  Nature — at 
all  events  in  one,  the  ‘  Roman  Campagna  before 
Sunrise,’  in  a  private  collection,  comparatively  un¬ 
touched — there  are  more  breadth,  space,  and  atmo¬ 
sphere  than  I  have  ever  seen  in  any  other  painting 
of  his.  Architecture,  such  as  then  was  the  fashion, 
was  in  him  a  passion.  He  built  it  upon  his  canvases 
after  a  cold  and  stately  ideal  of  his  own,  which  reminds 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  383 

one  more  of  castles  in  the  air  than  actual  habitable 
mansions.  In  drawing  and  variety  he  was  feeble,  but 
in  the  great  qualities  of  sky,  earth,  and  water,  he 
created  an  epoch  in  Art.  An  uninjured  Claude  is  a 
rare  object.  Almost  every  one  of  his  pictures  have 
been  more  or  less  skinned,  to  use  an  expressive  term, 
by  the  carelessness  of  cleaners.  Instead  of  their  origi¬ 
nal  luminosity,  we  have  cold,  dry  surfaces,  yet,  even  in 
their  loss,  so  infinitely  surpassing  in  quality  the  attempts 
of  other  artists,  as  to  still  claim  for  Claude  the  first 
position  as  a  painter  of  the  grand  elements  of  nature. 

A  sea-view  of  Claude’s  in  the  Academy  of  St.  Luke, 
at  Rome,  and  in  the  Dulwich  Gallery,  near  London, 
a  small  picture,  called,  I  believe,  the  £  Enchanted 
Castle,’  and  two  others,  in  the  collections  of  Mr 
Rogers  and  Mr.  Baring,  most  favorably  present  his  rare 
merits.  In  depth  and  unity  of  color,  subtle  gradation  of 
light  and  shade,  sparkling  liquidity  of  water,  solidity  of 
stone,  and  opacity  of  earth  and  transparency  of  atmo¬ 
sphere,  they  are  unrivalled.  The  water  of  these  pictures 
is  natural  in  quality ;  it  brings  with  it  the  refreshing 
breeze  and  musical  ripple,  and  suggests  those  moments 
in  which  Nature  is  most  charming.  His  sun  is  not  a 
glaring  white  spot,  but  shines,  diffusing  light  equally 
through  the  picture ;  it  borrows  no  external  rays,  hut 
covers  all  things  within  its  influence  with  a  trembling, 
luminous  atmosphere  of  its  own.  The  vegetation  of 
some  of  his  trees  is  massed  with  great  naturalness. 


384 


ART-HINTS. 


When  Art  is  so  much  indebted  to  one  man,  it  seems 
like  sacrilege  to  notice  his  deficiencies ;  but  they  are 
necessary  to  he  exhibited  as  warnings  to  other  artists  to 
strive  after  a  complete  whole,  while,  with  people  at 
large,  Claude  will  be  remembered  only  by  his  diligence 
and  success  in  making  us  feel  the  power  of  Art  to 
transfer  to  canvas  those  general  features  which  most 
constitute  our  delight  in  the  natural  world. 

We  have  thus  far  considered  andscape  Art,  in 
connection  with  its  masters,  rather  in  parts  than  in 
wholes.  None  of  the  artists  mentioned,  not  even 
Gainsborough,  with  all  his  power  and  love  of  Nature, 
can  be  compared  to  Turner  in  knowledge  of  landscape. 
To  England  is  the  honor  due  of  producing  the  most 
complete  landscapist ;  one  who  has  shown  us  the  capa¬ 
bility  of  Art  to  make  us  feel  the  variety  as  well  as 
grandeur  of  Nature.  Turner  was  to  the  landscape 
what  Raphael  was  to  the  human  figure  ;  each  embodied 
in  his  branch  of  Art,  a  certain  grace  of  expression, 
whether  in  repose  or  movement,  hitherto  unequalled. 
Everything  that  either  touched,  lived ;  its  vital  func¬ 
tions  were  at  once  fully  developed.  As  complete, 
however,  as  was  the  external  expression  of  each,  we 
feel  that  the  former  has  but  suggested  what  remains  to 
be  done  in  comparison  with  the  latter,  who,  in  his 
water-colors,  has  created  a  new  era  in  Art.  Turner 
gave  the  physical  truths  of  Nature,  on  every  scale, 
with  a  fidelity  and  variety  which  placed  him  far  above 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  385 

preceding  landscapists.  Through  his  works  Nature 
talks  to  us ;  she  smiles  or  frowns,  incites  to  action  or 
invites  to  repose,  as  may  be  her  mind.  To  no  artist  is 
the  lover  of  Nature  more  indebted  than  to  Turner ;  for 
he  has  established  a  standard  of  truth  in  Art  from 
which  the  world  will  not  readily  forgive  departure. 
The  universality  of  his  genius  in  this  respect  is  re¬ 
markable.  Other  landscapists  have  contented  them¬ 
selves  with  being  distinguished  in  parts  ;  but  he  aimed 
at  the  great  whole.  Nothing  that  God  had  created  and 
endowed  with  beauty,  from  an  Alp  to  a  limpet,  es¬ 
caped  his  notice.  His  true  field  was  Nature  ;  but  in 
the  works  of  man  he  could  equally  distinguish  himself. 
Few  artists  had  ever  drawn  architecture  like  Turner  ; 
witness  his  cathedral  at  Rouen,  in  his  ‘  Rivers  of  France.’ 
Ships,  too,  were  his  delight;  he  revelled  in  ocean 
sublimity  and  mountain  grandeur.  His  heart  was  no 
less  open  to  the  joy  of  the  plains  and  the  quiet  of  valleys. 
Whatever  he  undertook  he  touched  lovingly ;  at  times 
carelessly,  it  is  true,  and  even  wantonly,  but  always 
with  power  and  meaning.  In  no  respect  is  his  genius 
more  apparent  than  in  his  management  of  Nature,  by 
which,  in  general,  he  instinctively  seized  upon  her 
happiest  moments  and  most  beautiful  aspects.  The 
trivial  and  commonplace  seldom  found  sympathy  in 
him,  because  he  felt  that  in  interpreting  Nature,  his 
mission  was  to  be  faithful  to  her  highest  instincts. 

The  true  field  of  Turner  was  the  natural  world, 

S 


386 


ART-HINTS. 


Whenever  he  aspired  to  the  supernatural,  as  in  the 
illustrations  of  Milton,  and  even  the  fanciful,  as  in 
some  of  those  of  Campbell,  he  failed.  His  failure  is 
the  more  prominent  from  its  position  in  the  poems, 
which  shows  that  in  imaginative  grasp  and  beautiful 
imagery,  he  was  not  only  unequal  to  those  minds,  but  * 
incompetent,  even  with  their  aid,  to  soar  equally  high  ; 
but  when  called  upon  to  illustrate  natural  scenery  or 
domestic  life,  he  then  showed  himself  also  a  poet. 

His  drawings  have  an  exquisite  sense  of  harmony. 

In  gradations  and  variety  he  carefully  studied  Nature. 
One  of  his  chief  merits  is  that  he  suggests  more  than 
he  represents.  Feeling  is  conspicuous  in  his  work  ; 
consequently  we  fail  to  exhaust  his  work,  but  go  to  it 
again  and  again,  ever  discovering  some  new  beauty  or 
thought.  We  feel  the  inability  of  material  to  portray 
his  complete  idea.  There  is  a  sublimity  of  expression 
in  Nature  beyond  Art  to  render,  but  of  which  Turner, 
more  than  any  other  artist,  makes  us  sensible ;  indeed, 
in  the  making  up  of  his  landscape  world,  he  condenses 
so  much  of  the  noblest  and  loveliest  elements  of  the 
natural,  that  we  feel  his  ideal,  while  recognising  the 
truthfulness  of  the  actual  scenery.  He  catches  the 
best  expression  of  Nature.  While  Turner  has  labored 
as  the  prophet  of  Nature  to  make  us  perceive  her 
beauty  and  sublimity,  Ruskin,  in  no  less  degree,  has 
wrought  as  the  apostle,  to  make  us  comprehend  her 
truths.  To  these  two  Art-souls  the  world  is  more 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  ANI)  PAINTING.  387 

indebted  than  the  present  generation  may  confess.  To 
name  the  drawings  and  engravings  which  stamp 
Turner  as  the  greatest  master  of  landscape,  would  be 
to  fill  a  volume ;  he  was  as  prolific  and  various  as  he 
was  cultivated.  We  see  that  he  embodied  both  power 
and  diligence.  There  are  in  him  no  traces  of  academic 
teachings ;  every  line  breathes  of  the  pure  school  of 
Nature. 

As  a  painter ,  however,  I  cannot  consider  Turner 
great.  He  had  not  that  same  delicate  feeling  for 
color  that  he  had  for  form ;  or  rather  he  sought  to 
carry  out  in  oil  the  same  principle  which  gave  him 
success  in  water-colors,  and  failed  in  consequence  of 
pitching  his  key  too  high.  Those  who  seek  to  esta¬ 
blish  his  reputation  on  this  basis  do  him  an  injury,  and 
mislead  the  public  in  their  appreciation  of  the  harmony 
of  color.  We  can  only  judge  of  his  oil-pictures  as  we 
now  find  them.  They  are  all  fresh  in  years,  and  by 
the  ordinary  effects  of  time  should  be  richer  in  tone 
than  when  finished.  If  Turner  was  careless  or  experi- 
mentive  in  his  materials,  so  that  his  colors  have  not 
only  become  opaque,  but  are  changed  and  even  falling 
from  his  canvas,  he  lacked  an  essential  feature  of  a 
great  painter.  On  his  engravings  and  drawings  must 
rest  for  the  future  his  reputation  as  an  artist.  There 
are  great  paintings  of  his  still  in  perfect  condition,  but 
they  are  of  his  early  days,  when  he  prided  himself 
upon  triumphing  over  Claude,  Salvator,  Yandevelde, 


388 


ART-HINTS. 


and  Cuyp,  each  in  their  particular  excellence.  I  have 
seen  even  a  favorable  attempt  of  his  to  copy  Titian 
in  color. 

These  pictures  are  sufficient  to  give  him  much  repu¬ 
tation  as  a  painter,  but  not  to  establish  him  as  a  great 
colorist.  His  power  over  water  is  more  apparent  in 
form  than  hue,  which  is  slightly  dry;  but  he  so  far 
excels  all  other  artists,  even  in  luminous  liquidity, 
who  have  painted  the  ocean  in  mass — the  quiet  bits  of 
water  by  Claude  are  not  to  be  considered  as  ocean — 
that  we  think  of  failure  in  him  only  in  comparison  with 
nature  itself.  In  his  ‘  Landing  of  the  Prince  of 
Orange,’  how  gloriously  the  barge  lifts  on  the  swell, 
which  is  all  motion ,  and  passes  away  in  the  salt-mist 
that  half-veils  the  distant  vessels.  There  are  brine 
and  tar  and  bilge-water,  the  creaking  of  blocks  and 
the  running  of  ropes,  the  dull  fog-muffled  sound  of 
cannon  and  the  quick  stroke  of  oars,  the  lazy  pitch  of 
the  hull  and  the  flapping  of  canvas,  in  all  this.  We 
can  cast  hook  and  line  in  this  water  and  they  will  go 
to  the  bottom  :  whereas  with  almost  all  other  artists — 
even  Stanfield’s  is  viscid — St.  Peter  would  have  needed 
no  miracle  to  have  saved  him  from  sinking. 

I  have  by  me  a  little  sea-view  by  Professor  Gamba, 
of  Turin,  which,  next  to  Turner,  has  more  of  ocean 
quality  in  drawing  and  color  than  any  other  that  I  have 
seen.  It  is  blowing  freshly,  the  sea  is  tossed  and 
broken  into  a  thousand  fantastic  shapes  near  shore,  and 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  389 

riled  by  the  disturbed  sand  from  the  bottom,  while  the 
horizon  is  yesty  with  foam  and  roughened  by  huge  waves 
that  sullenly  move  before  the  wind.  Unfortunately 
the  sky  is  hard,  though  the  water  is  liquid  motion. 

Turner’s  fame  as  an  oil  painter  by  some  is  made 
to  rest  upon  his  later  style.  I  was  attracted  to 
London,  solely  by  their  encomiums,  to  see  the  Art- 
wonders  so  enthusiastically  indorsed.  At  the  risk  ot 
being  all  wrong  myself  I  shall  frankly  give  my  own 
views,  which,  so  far  as  in  me  lie,  are  founded  upon  the 
broad  principles  of  Art.  The  remarks  will  apply 
exclusively  to  those  works  which  Turner  himself 
esteemed  his  best,  and  willed  to  the  British  nation. 

I  have  already  sufficiently  conceded  his  great  merits 
as  a  general  artist.  Further  than  this  I  would  say, 
that  in  some  of  his  recent  pictures  there  are  portions 
of  color  that  sparkle  with  light,  and  are  true  to  Nature  ; 
but  they  are  so  rare,  as  we  now  see  his  pictures,  as  to 
seem  exceptions  to  his  general  tone. 

Turner,  being  deficient  in  color,  lacked  the  first 
essential  of  a  painter.  In  his  paintings  in  his  own 
gallery  he  failed  in  more  than  this.  My  first  impres¬ 
sion  upon  viewing  these  pictures  was  that  they  were 
the  freaks  of  a  madman.  They  reminded  me  of  the 
effect  of  frost  upon  a  window,  attractive  from  its  un¬ 
meaning  variety  of  forms,  though  sometimes  resolving 
itself  into  the  likeness  of  natural  objects. 

In  these  pictures  Turner  appears  to  have  departed 


390 


ART-HINTS. 


from  all  those  qualities  which  make  his  water-colors 
so  valuable.  There  is  nothing  of  Nature  in  them. 
Occasionally  some  familiar  object  is  suggested,  but 
there  is  no  certainty,  even  after  close  study,  of  the 
motive,  and  scarcely  of  the  form.  With  many,  the 
time  chosen,  especially  in  the  Venetian  pictures,  is  when 
the  sunlight  is  strongest,  and  we  naturally  fly  from  its 
glare.  If  his  ambition  were  to  rival  Nature’s  in- 
tensest  light,  he  has,  as  all  painters  must,  signally 
failed.  The  pictures  present  glaring  white  surfaces, 
spotted  with  positive  colors,  laid  on  with  a  dash  of  the 
brush  or  the  fingers,  with  little  or  no  attention  to  form  ; 
an  intense  blue  for  the  upper  sky,  but  all  color  opaque, 
and  the  canvas  so  heavily  loaded  that  in  many  places 
the  paint  has  dried,  cracked,  and  dropped  off.  Where, 
as  in  the  Napoleon,  he  has  aimed  at  strength  of  color, 
he  has  given  only  an  unintelligible  glare  of  blood-red 
and  spotty-black  over  a  white  surface,  on  which  form 
is  almost  wholly  untraceable,  so  that  the  picture  is  more 
like  an  artistic  nightmare  than  a  coherent  thought. 

His  ‘  Hail,  Rain,  and  Steam,’  is  no  less  untrue  to 
Nature.  The  bridges  are  mere  ghosts  of  substance. 
Both  earth  and  water  are  equally  destitute  of  quality. 
The  sky  is  far  more  solid  than  the  stone-work.  It 
has  no  luminosity  whatever,  but  is  actually  falling  to 
pieces  from  its  own  weight  of  paint.  Even  the  loco¬ 
motive,  which  should  have  the  appearance  of  metal  at 
least,  is  a  mere  phantom.  The  iron-work,  which 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  39 1 

naturally  suggests  strength  and  capacity,  is  made  up 
of  a  thin  glazing  of  black.  In  short,  lie  has  reversed 
the  first  principles  of  painting,  leaving  solids  trans¬ 
parent  and  making  liquids  solid,  and  pitching  all  upon 
so  high  a  key  as  to  offend  the  eye.  Now  this  is  not 
the  work  of  a  sane  man.  It  may  be  a  freakish  display 
of  power,  an  endeavor  to  accomplish  impossible  ends 
through  frail  materials,  or  an  attempt  to  dazzle  by 
eccentricity  ;  but  it  is  not  the  labor  of  an  artist,  rich  in 
the  experience  of  time,  diligent  and  patient,  and  loyal 
to  Nature’s  truths. 

Too  much  strength  to  color  cannot  be  given.  Its 
power  lies  in  this.  The  tints  must  be  harmonized  and 
scumbled  into  luminosity,  not  left  positive  and  opaque. 
Nature  overpowers  vision  by  her  brightness  ;  but  in  her 
most  gorgeous  sunsets  the  sky  is  full  of  cool,  whitish 
greys,  which  amalgamate  with  and  permeate  the 
richer  tints,  giving  them  that  quivering  transparency 
which  is  so  dazzlingly  attractive.  We  want  luminous 
and  liquid  air,  and  not  plain  white  or  blue  paint, 
which  Turner  has  given.  His  skies  are  spotty  and 
hard.  They  do  not  illuminate.  The  bright  atmo¬ 
spherical  colors  should  appear  of  prismatic  tenderness 
of  outline  and  texture  as  in  the  rainbow,  arching  space. 
Solid  pigments  will  not  express  the  qualities  of  either 
sky,  flesh,  or  water. 

Yet  Turner  lavishly  employs  them  for  these  effects ; 
and  when  he  seeks  to  render  solidity  and  dryness  gives 


392 


ART-HINTS. 


an  almost  ethereal  lightness  of  color.  So  much  faith 
had  he  in  his  method  that  he  often  relied  on  color  more 
than  his  drawing  to  suggest  objects.  The  consequence 
is,  that  in  all  this  class  of  pictures,  he  bewilders  the 
mind  by  his  palpable  violations  of  the  first  truths  of 
Art.  Titian,  on  the  contrary,  although  relying  on  the 
enchantments  of  color  for  his  greatest  effects,  never 
disturbed  its  harmony  by  gross  departures  from  the 
general  unity  of  form  and  spirit.  Turner  occasionally 
indulged  in  mere  tricks.  Titian  always  worked  on 
broad  principles.  The  latter  will  live  through  all  time 
by  the  permanency  of  his  works.  The  former  must 
depend  upon  the  engraver  for  his  general  fame,  while 
his  highest  merit  can  be  known  only  to  the  few  who 
possess  or  have  the  opportunity  to  study  his  best  water- 
color  drawings.1 

1  America  has  the  promise  of  a  distinguished  artist  in  Mr.  Til- 
ten,  now  in  Rome.  He  is  yet  young,  twenty-four  years  of  age ; 
but  with  an  innate  feeling  for  color,  practical  knowledge  of  ma¬ 
terial,  and  devotion  for  high  Art,  that  I  have  rarely  seen  equalled. 
Among  the  few  landscapes  that  he  has  painted,  there  are  some  that 
are  natural  poems,  vital  with  thought.  He  has  yet  fully  to  express 
himself.  But  in  the  qualities  of  the  landscape,  the  making  felt  the 
differences  between  earth,  atmosphere,  and  water,  his  works  in  these 
particulars  are  unrivalled.  The  eye  brings  not  up  upon  opaque 
paint,  but  passes  into  space  ;  quivering  moist  air,  peopled  with 
cloud-forms  varied  and  delicate  in  shape  and  color,  like  the 
harmonies  of  Nature  itself.  So  surprising  are  his  atmospherical 
effects,  that  upon  inverting  his  pictures,  the  spectators  have  com¬ 
plained  of  being  made  dizzy  by  the  apparent  aerial  motion.  It  is 
premature,  however,  to  speak  of  an  artist  who  yet  is  only  giving 
signs  of  his  future.  Mr.  Page,  another  American  at  Rome,  in  color, 
expression,  and  feeling,  has  the  attributes  of  a  great  artist.  No 


ARCHITECTURE,  SCULPTURE,  AND  PAINTING.  393 

Unfortunately,  for  him,  engraving  cannot  do  his 
varied  powers,  as  exhibited  in  the  minute  gradations 
and  subtle  forms  of  Nature,  full  justice.  Neither  does 
it  thus  far  adequately  represent  Gainsborough,  Titian, 
Raphael,  Leonardo,  or  any  great  mind.  Turner  has 
challenged  comparison  with  Claude,  by  hanging  two 
of  his  works,  in  the  National  Gallery  at  London, 
between  two  of  that  artist’s,  one  of  which  is  an  in¬ 
different  copy,  and  the  other,  if  original,  inferior  to  other 
Claudes  in  the  same  room.  Turner  is  by  far  the 
greater  artist.  We  find  in  him  an  imaginative  power 
and  feeling,  in  short  a  genius,  to  which  Claude  was  a 
stranger.  He  is  great,  however,  in  these  pictures  in 
parts,  and  not  as  a  whole.  His  color  is  hot  and  harsh, 
as  in  his  ‘  Building  of  Carthage,’  and  the  attempt  to 
eclipse  Claude  in  his  particular  method  of  composi¬ 
tion  is  too  apparent.  The  latter,  not  in  these  two 
pictures,  which  by  no  means  fairly  represent  him,  but 
in  those  that  are  undoubtedly  genuine,  please  more 
from  their  harmony  of  color  and  general  unity  of 
Nature’s  chief  elements. 

The  grace  of  Raphael,  color  of  Titian,  and  variety 
of  Turner,  harmonized  into  one  soul,  would  make  the 
complete  artist. 

painter  of  modern  times,  in  color  and  scientific  knowledge,  particu¬ 
larly  in  his  portraits,  so  nearly  approaches  Titian.  But  no  artist 
can  be  classed  as  truly  great  until  he  has  manifested  himself  in  great 
thoughts  as  well  as  perfect  execution. 


(  394  ) 


APPENDIX. 


In  looking  over  tlie  biographies  of  many  distinguished 
artists,  I  have  been  struck  by  their  longevity.  Be¬ 
lieving  that  a  table  of  their  ages  would  be  not  without 
interest,  I  have  prepared  one  of  those  mentioned  in  this 
volume.  In  some  instances  the  dates  are  approximative, 
but  the  results,  as  far  as  can  be,  are  correctly  given. 


Born. 

Died. 

Age. 

1471 

1528 

Albert  Durer 

57 

1578 

1660 

Alban o . 

82 

1387 

1455 

Angelico,  Fra 

68 

1530 

after 

1621 

Anguisciola,  Sofonisba 

90 

1488 

1530 

Andrea  del  Sarto  . 

42 

1469 

1517 

Bartolomeo  . 

48 

1487 

1559 

Bandinelli 

.  72 

1510 

1592 

Bassano 

.  82 

1528 

1612 

Baroccio 

.  84 

1421 

1501 

Bellini,  Gentile 

.  80 

1426 

1516 

Bellini,  Giovanni  . 

.  90 

1500 

1572 

Benvenuto  Cellini  . 

.  72 

1598 

1680 

Bernini 

.  82 

1480 

1561 

Berreguete  . 

.  81 

1444 

1514 

Bramante 

.  70 

1567? 

Bronzino 

.  69 

1377 

1446 

Brunalleschi  . 

.  69 

1556 

1619 

Carracci,  Lodovico . 

.  63 

APPENDIX. 


Born. 

Died. 

Age. 

1560 

1609 

Carracci,  Annibale  . 

.  49 

1569 

1609 

Caravaggio  . 

.  40 

1616 

1686 

Carlo,  Dolce  . 

.  70 

1625 

1713 

Carlo,  Maratta 

.  88 

1240 

1300 

Cimabue 

.  60 

1600 

1682 

Claude  Lorraine 

.  82 

1494 

1534 

Correggio 

.  40 

1748 

1825 

David,  Louis. 

.  77 

1581 

1641 

Domenicbino 

.  60 

1383 

1466 

Donatello 

.  83 

1526 

1579 

El  Mudo 

.  53 

1239 

1312 

Gaddo,  Gaddi 

.  73 

1387 

1455 

Gentile  da  Fabriano 

.  68 

1377 

1455 

Ghiberti,  Lorenzo  . 

.  78 

1477 

1511 

Giorgione 

.  34 

1632 

1705 

Giordano,  Luca 

.  73 

1276 

1337 

Giotto  . 

.  61 

1470? 

Gozzolo,  Benozzo  . 

.  78 

1575 

1642 

Guido,  Beni  . 

.  67 

1498 

1554 

Hans  Holbein 

.  56 

1697 

1764 

Hogarth 

.  67 

1590 

1678 

J  ordaens 

.  84 

1452 

1519 

Leonardo  da  Yinci 

.  61 

1400 

1469 

Lippi,  Filippo 

.  69 

after 

1531 

Lorenzo  da  Credi  . 

.  78 

1401 

1443 

Massacio 

.  42 

1474 

1563 

Michael  Angelo 

.  89 

1509 

1586 

Morales 

.  77 

1618 

1682 

Murillo 

.  64 

1329 

1389 

Orcagna 

.  60 

1610 

1685 

Ostade,  A. 

.  75 

395 


396 


APPENDIX. 


Born. 

Died. 

Palma  the  elder 

Age. 

.  4S 

1544 

1628 

Palma  the  younger 

.  84 

1503 

1540 

Parmigiano  , 

.  37 

1625 

1654 

Paul  Potter  . 

.  29 

1528 

1588 

Paul  Veronese 

.  60 

1446 

1524 

Perugino 

.  78 

— 

1498?  Pollaiulo 

.  72 

1594 

1665 

Poussin,  Nicolo 

.  71 

1613 

1675 

Poussin,  Gaspar 

.  62 

1485 

1520 

Eaphael 

.  37 

1606 

1674 

Rembrandt  . 

.  68 

1577 

1640 

Rubens . 

.  60 

1605 

1685 

Sassoferrato  . 

.  80 

1615 

1673 

Salvator  Rosa 

.  58 

1479 

1570 

Sansovino 

.  91 

1597 

1684 

Subtermans  . 

.  84 

1610 

1690 

Teniers,  D.  . 

.  80 

1548 

1625 

Theoticopuli  (El  Greco)  .  77 

1477 

1576 

Titian  . 

.  99 

1512 

1594 

Tintoretto 

.  82 

1852 

Turner. 

.  80? 

1389 

1472 

Ucello,  Paolo 

.  83 

1599 

1640 

Vandyke 

'.  42 

1633 

1707 

Vandevelde  . 

.  71 

1712 

1786 

Vernet,  Joseph 

.  72 

1370 

1440 

Van  Eyck,  Gio. 

.  71 

1512 

1574 

Vasari  . 

.  62 

1702 

1788 

Zucherelli 

.  86 

The  average  of  life  of  the  above  seventy-seven  artists 
is  upwards  of  sixty-eight  years  and  six  months.  Forty- 
two  lived  to  he  70  and  upwards,  and  twenty-two  from 


APPENDIX. 


397 


80  to  99  years  of  age,  wliile  but  four  died  short  of  40 
Paul  Potter  and  Titian  were  the  extremes. 

The  prices  of  pictures  are  worthy  of  note.  I  will 
quote  a  few,  as  illustrative  of  their  value  in  different 
ages,  and  the  pecuniary  difference  between  the  living 
and  the  dead  artist. 

It  is  somewhat  remarkable  that  objects  of  art  com¬ 
manded  greater  prices  in  antiquity  than  in  modem 
times.  Apelles  sold  his  painting  of  4  Alexander  grasp¬ 
ing  the  Thunderbolt,’  which  was  deposited  in  the 
Temple  of  Diana,  at  Ephesus,  for  211,000  dollars,  ox 
about  43,000?. 

The  highest  price  paid  in  our  day — mark  the  dif¬ 
ference,  it  being  two  centuries  after  it  was  painted — 
was  for  Murillo’s  4  Assumption,’  which  brought,  in 
Prance,  125,000  dollars,  or  25,000?. 

The  ‘  Saint  Jerome’  of  Correggio  was  executed  by 
him  for  a  price  equivalent  to  about  200  dollars.  In 
1749,  the  King  of  Portugal  offered  90,000  dollars  for  it. 
When  the  French  had  possession  of  Parma,  the  Duke 
vainly  offered  200,000  dollars,  or  a  million  of  francs,  to 
redeem  it  from  being  sent  to  Paris. 

Correggio’s  4  Magdalen,’  at  Dresden,  was  valued 
at  27,000  dollars,  at  its  purchase  with  other  paint¬ 
ings. 

A  4  Holy  Family’  of  Murillo’s,  in  the  National 
Gallery  at  London,  was  bought  for  31,000  dollars. 

Prince  Demidoff,  in  1837,  at  the  sale  of  the  Berri 
gallery,  paid  45,000  dollars  for  fourteen  pictures,  one 
of  which,  the  4  Breakfast  of  Ham,’  by  Teniers,  sold  for 
4,900  dollars. 

At  the  same  sale,  Demidoff  paid  7,500  dollars  for  the 


398 


APPENDIX. 


‘  Pasturage,’  by  Paul  Potter.  In  1806,  one  of  his 
pictures  was  bought  in  London  for  9,600  dollars. 

The  best  Ruysdaels  are  now  esteemed  at  from  5,000 
to  6,000  dollars  each.  A  century  ago  they  could  have 
been  bought  for  the  tenth  of  that  sum. 

Ostade’s  pictures  are  still  more  valuable.  In  1837, 
his  ‘  Village  Dance  ’  brought  4,400  dollars. 

The  two  famous  Claudes  of  the  British  Gallery 
were  sold  in  1804  for  20,000  dollars  each.  A  good 
Claude  readily  brings  from  5,000  to  20,000  dollars, 
according  to  its  merit. 

Rembrandt’s  pictures  are  equally  in  esteem,  being 
worth  from  1,000  to  15,000  dollars  each.  In  1844,  two 
of  his  portraits  brought  3,500  and  4,900  dollars  respec¬ 
tively. 

In  1817,  West  received  4,000  dollars,  or  800/.,  for  his 
‘  Annunciation.’  In  1840  it  was  sold  by  auction  for 
10/.,  or  50  dollars. 

It  would  be  a  curious  inquiry  to  trace  the  price  of 
celebrated  works  of  Art,  from  the  time  they  left  their 
authors’  studios  to  the  present  day.  But  the  above 
examples  are  sufficient  to  give  an  idea  of  the  varying 
pecuniary  estimation  put  upon  Art  by  dealers  and 
amateurs.  Turner’s  pictures  have  risen  fourfold  since 
his  death.  As  a  general  rule,  I  should  say,  that  works  of 
Art  have  increased  in  value  threefold  within  the  present 
century — a  favorable  symptom  for  artists  and  the  public. 


THE  END. 


<33c^c^. 


